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Meenie was on her knees beside Pearl’s bassinet. 
Page 51. 



THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

/i /-fe 

BY 


EDITH L. GILBERT 

AUTHOR OF “the FROLICSOME FOUR” 


ILLUSTBATED BY MABGABET GODDABD 



BOSTON! 

LEE AND SHEPARD 
1904 


UBR^^^7Y ftf CONGRESS 
TWq OodIm Received 

AUG 19 1904 

y Oooyrljrht Entry 

/Ma^ (3 _ / (7 Lf. 

CLASS Ol XXe. He. 

S'R 0 0 0 

COPY B 



Copyright, 1904, by Lee and Shepard. 
Published August, 1904. 


All Rights Reserved. 


The Making of Mkenie. 


Kortoooli 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 




DEDICATION TO-— 


The two wee darlings still at play 
In a Canadian nooh^ 

Too young to read^ and yet — I think 
^Twas they who wrote this hook. 



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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 


I. 

A Little Maid 

. 

. 




11 

II. 

Dorothea 

. 

. 




25 

III. 

Castles in the Air 

. 

. 




37 

IV. 

The Story of a Pink Bow 

. 




46 

V. 

Stop Thief ! 






52 

VI. 

Here’s a Letter for 

You! 

. 




58 

VII. 

Our Ball Team and 

the 

Pride 

OF 

THE 



Kitchen 


. 




72 

VIII. 

Revenge . 






107 

IX. 

Everybody Wins . 


. 




116 

X. 

J = Joy 


. 




131 

XL 

“ Help ! ” . 


. 




141 

XII. 

In the Pasture 


• 




155 

XIII. 

Good-by till Next Summer 





165 


7 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Meenie was on her knees beside Pearl’s bassi- 
net (Frontispiece) 51 

Dorothea sat alone on her beloved balcony . 52 

Lawrence took a small key and . . . opened the 

box 60 

Last and most triumphant marched Billy . . 103 ^ 

Gwen and Meenie raced 127 

“ Get her, Don ! There ! There ! ” . . . 151 


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THE MAKING OF MEEHIE 


CHAPTER I 

A LITTLE MAID 



IKE, how many skeeters make 
a mile ? ” 

No answer. 

“Mike, I say, be you deef? How 
many skeeters make a mile ? ” 

Still no answer. 

Presently the young questioner, 
whose name was Meenie Snider, gave 
up expecting his reply, and began to 
lay a heavy hand upon the “ mile ” 
of mosquitoes which met her and her 


11 


12 


THE MAKING OF MEENIE 


two baby companions at the door of 
silent Mike’s barn. 

“ Yer varmints ! ” she exclaimed, 
striking to right and left. “ Wonder 
yer wouldn’t be after making a meal 
off of small Pearlie and Joy. Nary 
a bite will yer get at them sweet 
creeters.” 

Up at the great house, Meenie’s 
mistress was talking to her friend, 
Mrs. Brailsford, and since their conver- 
sation may help you to understand the 
little maid’s position in the Sargeant 
household, I will ask you to listen. 

“ I have done everything in my 
power to help Meenie to be good. 
Sometimes I am afraid she is be- 
yond help — an absolutely incorrigible 


A LITTLE MAID 


13 


child,” said Mrs. Sargeant. “ At first 
my sympathy was roused because she 
was alone in the world, a mere waif, 
as you know. I needed a young nurse. 
She needed a home. In some ways 
she is hardly more than a child, help- 
less and dependent like other children. 
Then, again, she is both womanly and 
wise. One day she will be so trouble- 
some that I determine to discharge her 
at once, and the next so helpful that 
I cannot bear to let her go.” 

“You have certainly been very pa- 
tient with her,” replied Mrs. Brails- 
ford. “ My Billy had one proof of her 
temper, you remember, and her repu- 
tation for untruthfulness and theft 
is equally strong. When your babies 
grow older, you may have to part with 


14 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


her because of her bad influence over 
them.” 

“ Meenie’s strong point, perhaps her 
only one, is her love for the babies. 
Her care over them amounts to real 
talent. She will do anything in the 
wide world for them, and do it well, 
too. The poor tots — Pearl especially 
— have been wakeful and troublesome, 
yet she is tender and devoted, amuses 
them by the hour, and sings them to 
sleep with such love in her voice that 
it fairly thrills my heart. She flies 
into temper with Biddy and Mike, but 
Pve never heard a cross word to either 
baby. 

“ I’m not sure that she’s entirely re- 
sponsible for some of her naughty 
ways. I’ve been told many different 


A LITTLE MAID 


15 


stories about her parents. To hear 
her talk you might think she was 
Irish, but I believe some of her peo- 
ple came from the slums of London — 
the Whitechapel District. Poor Meenie 
has been reared to untidiness, lying, 
and stealing. The first year that she 
was with me I can’t remember that she 
ever told the truth. I’ve reasoned with 
her by the hour. She will sometimes 
confess a lie, nowadays, which is a 
stride in the right direction. Every 
bureau drawer, trunk, and closet in 
this house has to be kept locked, un- 
less I am willing to have her see it. 
She would read my letters if I left 
them around, — think what a hateful 
trick, — and her ear is always at the 
keyhole.” 


16 


TEE MAKING- OF MEENIE 


“ How distressing ! I really think 
you’re not called upon to endure such 
a child under your roof unless you feel 
sure that by keeping her you can help 
her to become a good woman. There 
must be a ‘ Home ’ for such unfortu- 
nates, — poor, poor little Meenie ! ” 

As the ladies spoke, a figure clad in 
a dark gingham dress came slowly up 
the garden path. It was an awkward 
figure, short and square — ^ a great chunk 
of a girl. Her hair was straight and 
very black. It had begun to grow after 
recent cropping, and it hung unevenly 
about her face. Her large, dark eyes 
were hard and full of daring. Her 
hands and feet suggested untidiness 
and solid strength. 

On either side, supported by her 


A LITTLE MAID 


17 


courageous hand, toddled a baby girl. 
They were all in white, with gold curls 
blowing in the breeze, and they were 
dimpling and smiling as they rocked 
along on tiny slippered feet. 

As the party approached, Mrs. 
Brailsford was reminded of a shad- 
owy “Night” leading into the sun- 
shine two rosy “ Mornings.” 

“How are you, Meenie?” said she. 
“ What fine care you take of the twins; 
they are as pink as peaches ! ” 

The heavy face of the girl bright- 
ened for an instant, then she said 
savagely : — 

“ I’ve jess had ’em down to the barn 
fer Mike to weigh ’em. This one, here 
— ‘ Joy,’ why, she weighs more than 
‘ Pearl ’ here — three pounds more. 


18 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


But Pearl — she's the one I like best 
— she’s the one that is most sickly, 
she has ter cry the most, and so I 
love her best. She’s the one that 
swallered the marble, and the button, 
and the snarl of baste threads. She 
would have eat the doll’s bead neck- 
lace, but I got my finger down her and 
hauled it out. I love Pearl the best, 
don’t I, darlin’? Who’s got a sweet 
kiss tucked way round behind her 
ear for Meenie ? ” 

So saying, she seized Pearl and 
kissed her rapturously behind the ear. 
In return the little one smiled and 
patted her cheek lovingly. 

“ I never let Meenie kiss the babies 
on the' lips," explained Mrs. Sargeant. 
“ I am so afraid of disease. Take 


A LITTLE MAID 


19 


them indoors, you’d better, Meenie, — 
it’s growing chilly. I’m so sorry Pearl 
doesn’t gain. Joy is the very picture 
of health, but Pearl has that transpar- 
ent color which makes me tremble.” 

The young nurse grasped a charge 
in either arm and strode into the 
house. She paused, however, at the 
door, saying pertly to Mrs. Brailsford : 
“How’s your boy, Billy? Has he 
been on any more picnics sence I 
seen him last?” Then she laughed 
roughly and slammed the door. 

A few minutes later there was a 
distinct sound as of a head bumping 
against something very hard. Bump, 
bump, bump! This was followed by 
lusty screams. 

Both ladies flew to the rescue. They 


20 TRE MAKING OF MEENIE 

reached the nursery to find the peachy 
Joy in the centre of the floor, banging 
her own head against its unresisting 
surface, and shrieking an accompani- 
ment. 

“ 'Tain’t no use to stop her. Miss 
Sargeant,” said Meenie, as Joy’s 
mother gathered the pudgy form into 
her arms and soothed the bruised 
head with kisses. “ Joy has tentrums. 
She’s jest plain mad, fer I took this 
here fish-hook out of her mouth, — 
going straight fer her stummik. She 
picked it up in the barn, and was 
bound to eat it. She’s mad; orful, 
orful mad ! Pearlie now, why she’s 
more partikillar. She wonldn’t eat 
dirty old fish-hooks, would she, the 
darlin’ ? Who’s got a purty kiss fer 


A LITTLE MAID 


21 


Meenie tucked way round back of her 
ear ? ” 

Presently, when quiet was restored, 
and the ladies had returned to the 
veranda, Mrs. Sargeant spoke again. 
“You have no idea how often Meenie 
has rescued those babies from danger 
and perhaps death. No grown woman 
could be more watchful. One night, 
when it was chilly in the nursery 
where the babies were sleeping, we 
had lighted a little oil stove — con- 
venient, but treacherous things, as you 
know. This stove began flaring, and 
it didn’t take Meenie an instant to 
carry both babies into the spare room. 
Then she lifted the oil stove — she is 
afraid of nothing — and bore it stead- 
ily through the hall to the large win- 


22 


THE MAKING OF MEENIE 


dow at tlie end, where she threw it out. 
Another moment and the thing would 
probably have exploded and set fire to 
the house. I should miss her unspeak- 
ably if I discharged her, and yet, when 
she is reckless and unendurable, I feel 
as if it was my duty to put a tag on 
her and express her elsewhere. If I 
could only, only know what is best and 
right to do.” 

As Mrs. Sargeant concluded, there 
came through the open window a 
voice so sweet and full and melodious, 
that both ladies stopped to listen. It 
was only a lullaby, soft and tender, 

“ Rock-a-bye, Pearlie, 

On the tree-top, 

When the wind blows 
The cradle will rock, 


A LITTLE MAID 


23 


When the bough breaks 
The cradle will fall, 

Down will come cradle, 

Pearlie, and all.” 

“ What a superb voice ! ” exclaimed 
Mrs. Brailsford. “ I remember now 
Billy said Meenie sang like a nightin- 
gale, but he’s apt to exaggerate the 
talents of others. I had no idea the 
girl had such ability. I’m sorry not 
to stay longer and hear more. What 
a strange puzzle the child is ! I think, 
since you’re in such doubt about her, 
it is very wise to wait a little while, 
and do nothing, — to wait, — and to 
hope that out of the waiting may 
come good. 

“When do you expect Dorothea? 
Gwen and Polly will want to come 


24 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


right over to see her. They have 
their high ideals, and Dorothea is 
one of them.” 

“ Everybody loves Dorothea. She 
telegraphed that she would arrive to- 
morrow. Be sure to let the girls 
come soon, and often.” 

“ Good-by.” 

“ Good-by.” 


CHAPTEE II 


DOROTHEA 


OROTHEA CAMERON was a 
Canadian girl, whose yearly 
visit to her aunt in the States 
was a signal for rejoicing. 

Only kind fairies had kissed her in 
baby days, giving her eyes of rarest 
blue, a face as fair as Pearl’s, and 
hair as full of sunshine as Joy’s. 
Good Fortune had bestowed wealth. 
Her dainty figure disported gowns of 
witching workmanship. Best of all, 
the Angels had smiled down upon her 
and had given her the power of win- 
ning hearts and holding them fast. 


26 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


Dorothea’s Canadian home was a 
kind of old palace, with rare furniture 
and paintings, wonderful rugs, tapes- 
tries, and mosaics. There were cabi- 
nets of curios from all over the world 
— trophies from the Orient, each with 
its history of romance or adventure. 
But to her young spirit, the great 
house seemed dark and gloomy. There 
was no mother in the home ; she had 
died so long ago that poor Dorothea 
could not even remember her smile. 
Her father spent his time among the 
books in his library. She flitted in 
and out of the long rooms like a 
visitor in a museum. 

But in her aunt’s home there were 
two rooms which Dorothea called her 
own, and here her quiet and peaceful 


DOROTHEA 


27 


nature enjoyed a serene holiday, in 
harmony with her surroundings. Both 
rooms opened on a balcony which was 
covered with climbing roses. These 
rooms were all in white, save where an 
artist, with magic touch, had adorned 
the ceiling. He had put cherubs there 
— cherubs trailing rose vines like those 
out of doors into her snowy room. Her 
bedstead was brass, with a lace canopy. 
Next to it was a white stand with a 
candlestick and her holy book of 
prayer. In the bookcase were all her 
favorite volumes of poetry, and the 
windows were filled with ivy boxes 
and pink geranium. 

No rooms in any home satisfied her 
as these did, and no eighteen-year-old 
girl was better fitted to adorn beauti- 


28 


THE MAKma OF MEENIE 


ful rooms than was the angel-faced 
Dorothea. 

On this occasion she had not eome to 
Stanfield unattended. To be sure, her 
companion travelled all the way from 
Montreal in the baggage car ; but when 
freed from his prison, the great black 
Newfoundland greeted his mistress with 
such barks of dog joy that he proclaimed 
their comradeship at a glance. 

“ Down, Don ! Down, sir ! You great 
big old darling ! ” laughed Dorothea. 
“ Aunt May, do you suppose you can 
take care of this elephant? I simply 
couldn’t bear to leave him behind. 
What, Auntie?” (embracing the dog). 
“ Oh, no, he doesn’t have a kennel ; he 
always sleeps outside my door. Down, 
Don! there’s a good fellow. 


DOROTHEA 


29 


“How are you all? I can hardly 
wait to see Joy and Pearl. I was sure 
they would be asleep, but you will let 
me peep, just once, if I steal in ever 
so softly on my tiptoes, for indeed I 
can’t wait.” 

So with pleadings and kisses Doro- 
thea was permitted to open the nurs- 
ery door and thrust her bright face 
into the darkened room. Two bassinets 
stood side by side with white draperies 
and knots of blue ribbon. Joy slept 
face downward, one ruddy cheek half 
concealed by her mop of curls. The 
tumbled bedclothes revealed her beau- 
tifully formed white limbs and dimpled 
feet. 

Not so Pearl. Her fair face was 
resting upturned on the pillow; the 


30 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


long brown lashes scarcely stirred on 
her transparent cheeks. The tiny hands 
were thrown up as in the ecstasy of 
lovely visions. 

“ How unspeakably beautiful they 
both are ! ” whispered Dorothea, gaz- 
ing from one to the other in a kind 
of rapture. “ But, Auntie, who is that 
dreadfulrlooking girl sitting on the floor 
in the nursery ? ” 

“ Don’t reproach me, Dorothea ; that 
is Meenie. She is my little nurse- 
maid. I am keeping her simply be- 
cause I don’t know what else to do 
with her. She is really very good with 
the babies. She has had a most un- 
fortunate history, poor child, and, I 
believe, has not a friend in the world.” 

“ Lonely little waif ! ” said Doro- 


DOROTHEA 


31 


thea, her eyes and voice full of sorrow. 

“ What a pitiful life ! How dreadful it 
must be to have no father or mother, 
and no real home or friends ! It is 
saddest of all because she is so utterly 
unlovable in every way. I know how 
kind you are, but. Auntie dear, isn’t it 
very hard for you to put your arm round 
such a child, or to kiss her good night ? ” 

“ Dear me, Dorothy, you don’t sup- 
pose I ever touch her, do you? Noth- 
ing could induce me to kiss her on any 
account. I doubt if she ever has been 
kissed by any one — she is too repul- 
sive ; it wouldn’t be possible ! ” 

“ And yet,” said the girl, slowly, and^ 
in tones full of pity, “ she is only a 
child after all, and must be hungry for 
love — all children are; they need it 


32 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


to make them good. Why, what’s all 
this? aren’t those the young Brails- 
fords? look, Auntie! Yes, they must 
be! How old is Billy now? Eeally? 
He looks older than thirteen. Larry’s 
a great fellow for eleven. Hasn’t Gwen 
grown charming ? There’s my precious 
Polly' ! What will she say when I show 
her Don? ” 

Dorothea sprang out on the balcony 
to wave a welcome to her young friends. 
Above her sunny hair stretched the 
blue sky of June. Her dainty figure 
was framed about with rosy vines. For 
a minute her visitors were quite over- 
come by so gay a hostess. They gazed 
up at her, smiling, but silent and shy. 
Then she ran down the balcony steps 
outside and kissed them all. 


DOROTHEA 


33 


“How fine of you to come over at 
once ! What splendid fellows you are ! 
Wait till I show you what I brought 
with me all the, way from Canada.” 

As Dorothea spoke she pursed her 
rosy lips and gave a long, shrill 
whistle. Once, twice, she repeated the 
call, and then, from somewhere, the 
other side of the garden, there came 
an answering bark, strong arid joyous. 
The next instant a noble dog came 
rushing over the lawn like a whirl- 
wind. 

He was fresh from a plunge in the 
lake, but he jumped on his adored mis- 
tress, shook his wet curls on her dress, 
put both paws on her shoulders, and 
licked her sweet cheeks with pink 
tongue full of kisses. 


34 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


“Down, sir! Down, sir! ” she com- 
manded, laughing. “Your paws are 
shamefully wet, sir. Now, make your 
manners, sir. This is Billy, — shake 
hands with him and say good morning, 
— very prettily done. Now with 
Gwen, that’s right. Now say. How do 
you do, Lawrence, — now Polly, — no, 
here, this little one is Polly. You 
ought to love her because her birthday 
and yours are on the very same day. 
You’ll have to forgive Don if he forgets 
to call you all by your right names. 
Sometimes he pushes, too. He is 
rather rough, I’m afraid, but then he 
is really very young, — down, sir, — 
hardly more than a puppy. 

“ Billy, how’s our Post-office getting 
on? Did you make a new box this 


DOROTHEA 


35 


year, and brace it against the same old 
tree at the end of the lane? Shall I 
get my letters from all of you there as 
I did last year?” 

The children shouted. 

“ Oh, Dorothea,” began Gwen. 

“ Why, you see,” ejaculated Lawrence. 

“ You two shut up, will you? ” inter- 
rupted Billy. Polly only giggled. 

“ Oh, you rascals, you have a secret 
from me already — some wonderful mys- 
tery that I shall never know anything 
about,” said Dorothea, pretending to 
look grieved. “ I was looking forward 
with the greatest happiness to our Post- 
office. Please let’s have it again this 
year, Lawrence will attend to it, be- 
cause” — she stooped and whispered 
something in his proud ear. 


36 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


“ I’ll arrange for it,” he answered 
with some dignity. “ What Bill meant 
hadn’t really anything to do with our 
having the Post-office or not having it. 
It’s just a kind of joke.” 

There was a moment’s silence. All 
the others looked at Billy as though 
expecting him to explain something. 
Instead he looked provokingly amused, 
winked one eye at Dorothea, and whis- 
tled “ Old Dog Tray,” so loud indeed 
that faithful Don wagged his tail in 
time to the melody. 


CHAPTEE III 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 

must all come up on my 
'w balcony and well tell stories 
just as we did last year. I 
hope you don’t feel too grown up for 
that sort of thing. A year has changed 
every one of us a little. There isn’t 
any way to catch up to time which is 
as easy as story-telling. Help your- 
selves to Canada chocolates. Do you 
all remember how we used to build air- 
castles? I build them still, some- 
times. Have you outgrown air-castles, 
Billy?” 

He laughed. “ Oh, you mean that 


37 


38 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


stuff about pretending what we’ll be 
when we grow up?” he asked. “I 
don’t care, I’d just as soon play. Of 
course it’s all guff ! ” 

“ But it’s a jolly good way to get 
acquainted again, don’t you think so? 
Please take a caramel. Let’s begin 
with Lawrence. Tell us what you’re 
going to do and be when you grow 
up,” and Dorothea beamed upon him. 

“ Primarily,” began Lawrence, who 
rejoiced in large words, “ I shall be a 
scholar — exhausting the subjects of 
science, zoology, astronomy, geology, 
history, and mathematics. Then I 
shall turn my attention to the law. 
I want to be a politician, a statesman, 
and an orator. I shall plead my own 
cases in a large court, as Webster and 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 39 

Lincoln did. I shall be an absolutely 
honest lawyer. Some day I shall die, 
as all men do, but I shall never, never 
lose a case ! ” As he spoke, Lawrence 
folded both arms and his handsome 
face crimsoned with resolution. 

“ You’ve changed since last year, 
haven’t you?” said Dorothea. “I re- 
member you planned to be a minister 
then. But I believe you’re even better 
fitted for the bar,” and she pressed his 
hand warmly. 

“ I’ll tell you, Dolly, I don’t believe 
I could be a minister and not get to 
laughing in the pulpit. The funniest 
sort of things happen in church — they 
happen all the time. You know old 
Mr. Sims and how bald he is ? He 
always sits near the door and there’s 


40 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


a draught there. Well, last Sunday, 
his head was cold, so what did the 
old duffer do but out with a pair of 
heavy gloves and clap them on the 
top of his head to keep off the air. 
In about two seconds he gave one 
mighty sneeze. Into the air went both 
gloves, and under the pew went I, to 
stifle my roars. If I’d been the minis- 
ter I’d have had to leave the church. 
It’s no sin for a lawyer to laugh, and 
a safer risk for me — ” 

“ Go on, Polly, it’s your turn.” 

The little girl turned very red and 
her voice was shy and soft. 

“I’m going to keep a hospital for 
poor and sick animals,” she began. 
“ There’ll be lots of old worn-out horses 
in it who are too tired to go, and 


CASTLES IN THE AIR 


41 


splendid dogs that have been bitten 
in fights, and lambs with broken legs 
that’ll have to be bound up, and all 
kinds of lame and wounded birds. 
/ shall know just how to cure every- 
thing and not let it suffer. All the 
animals will love me and come to me 
when I call. If there should be a 
lion among them, I would take a thorn 
out of its paw. We’d have one great, 
enormous wagon, and on fine days I’d 
put them all in and drive them out 
for the air.” Polly ceased. 

The picture of his wee sister lifting 
a lion into a cart and taking it for an 
airing proved too ludicrous for Billy. 
He nearly rolled off the balcony stairs 
in silent convulsions of laughter. Gwen 
and Dorothea caught him on either 


42 


THE MAXma OF MEEJSriE 


side, and, to save Polly’s blushes, Gwen 
began : — 

When I grow up I shall probably 
keep house, either for Billy or for 
some one just like him. We are going 
to laugh all day long at our own jokes, 
and have a great many secrets which 
we’ll never tell any one. We’re going 
to have white curtains with ruffles at 
all our windows, and in the nursery 
there will be a crib, and in the crib, 
probably there’ll be a baby, — there’s 
a lovely one at the Home, almost as 
nice as Joy, — only our baby won’t 
bump her head on the floor or swallow 
things.' She will never cry, only just 
laugh all day long as we do, and when 
she gets old enough we will probably 
tell her some of our secrets. Now, 


OASTLES IN THE AIR 


43 


Billy, you say,” said Gwen, quite 
breathless. 

Billy looked very mischievous. 

“ Hold on there, Gwennie, I’m ter- 
ribly sorry to upset all your plans 
about letting you keep house for me. 
You see, all of you, I’ve had to change 
my own plans, so Gwen had better 
arrange to keep house for some other 
fellow.” His eyes twinkled. “/’m 
going to join a music troupe. And I’m 
going to take with me a very, very 
poor girl.” 

“ Oh, Billy ! ” gasped Gwen. But he 
continued despite her alarm. 

“ This girl is the homeliest thing you 
ever saw. She tells lies and she steals 
things, but she needs me for her 
friend. When I’ve got her to singing 


44 


THE MAKma OF MEENIE 


in the troupe — I guess it will be a 
circus troupe — and when she’s earn- 
ing money for herself and doesn’t need 
me any more, maybe then I’ll come 
back to see how Gwen is getting on. 
She's the one I’m going to help some 
day — she needs help all right.” Billy 
waved his thumb in the direction of 
Dorothea’s room, whence Meenie was 
disappearing with a water-pitcher. 

“ Oh, Billy ! ” begged Gwen. “ Oh, 
Billy, please don’t! She is so very 
frightening.” 

He pinched her cheek by way of 
consoling her, and to see how pink it 
grew. Then Polly said, “ What’s Don 
going to be when he grows up, tell us, 
Dorothea? ” 

The girl put her white arms around 


OASTLES IN TEE AIR 45 

his shaggy curls and laid her golden 
head against his black one. 

“Dear Don! When he grows out of 
puppyhood, he will be the same brave 
and devoted though older friend. He 
will stand close beside his proud' mis- 
tress when Lawrence makes a famous 
speech in court. He’ll be taken to 
Polly’s hospital whenever he is ill. 
He will guard Gwen’s home and rescue 
her baby from peril, and he’ll greet 
Billy’s music troupe with barks of joy 
whenever it comes to Stanfield.” 

Don’s actions, if tail, ears, eyes, and 
paws could speak, said very plainly, 
“ I’ll try, mistress, you can depend on 
me.” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE STOEY OF A PINK BOW 

“ TTT’S fer you,” said Meenie, as she 

I thnist one arm toward Dorothea 
and extended something very 
sticky wrapped in a bit of newspaper. 

The young lady accepted the offer- 
ing rather timidly. 

“ How kind of you,” she murmured, 
putting the nauseous stuff in a little 
saucer. “ What made you think of 
giving it to me, Meenie?” The girl 
shook her savage locks and replied 
roughly : — 

“I bought it fer you at the store — 
one fer you, and one fer Miss Harkness, 


46 


THE STORY OF A PINK BOW 47 

and one fer me — I mean two fer me, or 
mebbe ” — with shining eyes — “ three, 
or — four! I never liked no one so 
well as I like you. You always speak 
so pleasant to me. I never seen no 
one smile so nice, so I bought it fer 
you.” 

“It was good of you to think of me, 
and I thank you very much, Meenie, 
and for bringing up the ice-water, too. 
You take very good care of me.” 

The great, awkward girl stopped a 
minute at the door, her large hand 
stuffed in her mouth, and her strange 
eyes fixed on Dorothea. 

“ Sometimes I’m jess mad at you, 
you wear such fine clothes. It’s white 
dresses all day long and every day, 
and blue ribbing and pink ribbing. 


48 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


I never seen sicli things. I never had 
no white dress, and won’t never. It 
don’t make no difference ’bout me. No 
one never even give me a hair rib- 
bing.” 

“ Come here, Meenie,” said Doro- 
thea. She spoke suddenly. As she 
did so, she took from her bureau 
drawer a roll of beautiful pale pink 
ribbon. 

“ Some day, if you are good, we’ll 
ask Santa Claus to bring you a white 
dress. He knows a tree where white 
dresses grow — just the size for you.” 

With quick eye she measured length, 
doubled the silk in her fingers to judge 
the amount, and then cut. Snip, snip 
went the shining scissors. How skil- 
ful were her fingers ! Meenie watched 


THE STORY OF A PINK BOW 49 

while she flirted the rosy loops into 
a great butterfly bow. The next min- 
ute those same soft fingers wei’e 
actually in Meenie’s own wild hair, 
gathering up loose ends, and crown- 
ing the whole with the enchanting 
ribbon. 

“ Hold on till I git back, will yer ? ” 
exclaimed Meenie, excitedly, and sped 
from the room. It was some time be- 
fore she returned, and when she did 
her face was a strange mixture of em- 
barrassment and triumph. 

“ Want ter look at me now I’m all 
finished?” she asked proudly. 

She had found two large white 
aprons. One of these she had tied 
firmly about her chest and under her 
arms. The second she arranged over 


50 


THE MAKING OF MEENIE 


the first. It was tied about her waist 
and reached nearly to her ankles. 

“It’s me wite dress,” she explained, 
while Dorothea turned her round and 
round, insisting that the effect was 
most becoming. 

“ You must ask Aunt May how she 
likes the pink bow, Meenie,” sug- 
gested Dorothea, when at length her 
attempts at admiration were ex- 
hausted. But Meenie’s keen ears had 
heard a feeble wail in the direction 
of the nursery. 

“ Hist, it’s Pearl ! ” she whispered 
with upraised finger. Off came the 
proud “ wite dress.” She sped nim- 
bly down the hall, leaving both aprons 
on the floor. A moment later, Doro- 
thea heard a voice singing tenderly : — 


THE STORE OF A PINK BOW 51 


“ Sleep, little baby of mine, 

Soft on your pillow so white, 

Meenie is here to watch over you, dear, 

And nothing can harm you to-night. 

O little darling of mine. 

What can you know of the bliss. 

The comfort I keep, awake and asleep. 
Because I am certain of this ? 

Lul-la-by, lul-la-by, sleep, my baby, sleep ! ” 

Dorothea peeped into the nursery 
on her way downstairs, leaving the 
roll of aprons on the bed. Meenie was 
on her knees beside Pearl’s bassinet, 
rocking it softly and crooning, “ Lul- 
la-by, lul-la-by, sleep, my baby, sleep ! ” 
She raised a warning hand for Doro- 
thea to keep out. The once festive and 
resplendent pink bow hung crushed 
and forgotten over Meenie’s ear. 


CHAPTER V 


STOP THIEF! 

I T was growing dusk. Mrs. Sargeant 
had been in bed all day with head- 
ache. Dorothea who sat alone on 
her beloved balcony was dreaming big 
day-dreams, such as young girls know. 
She had read until it was too dark to 
see. 

From time to time she pulled a rose 
from the vines about her, stroking the 
soft leaves and putting them against 
her cheek or between her red lips. The 
air was heavy with fragrance. The 
young moon stole from behind a cloud 
and shone down upon her bright head. 


52 



Dorothea sat alone on her beloved balcony. —PoGie 52. 





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STOP THIEF! 


53 


Her whole form was wrapped in a mys- 
terious whiteness. 

For once even Don was away. Polly 
had borrowed him. Dorothea would 
have felt strangely alone and unpro- 
tected, but the great night was so beau- 
tiful that its very power made her 
unafraid. 

There was no light in the bedroom 
opening from the balcony, but the door 
there was open. 

All at once, in contrast to the still- 
ness, Dorothea heard a step — a stealthy, 
gliding step. It was in her room ; she 
was sure of it. White with terror, she 
sat transfixed in the moonlight. She 
could neither speak nor move. Her 
heart was full of fear. Suppose a rob- 
ber had scaled the balcony and had 


54 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


entered her room. Then came the 
question, Could he enter without her 
hearing him ? Her terrified fancy did 
not know, but she imagined him there 
gloating over her precious trinkets. At 
that moment she distinctly heard her 
bureau drawer open. She wondered if 
he would find and take them all, — the 
pearl pin, and the long chain with the 
little jewelled watch. In her mind she 
had parted with these treasures, and 
forever. 

The moon, however, was shedding its 
full light through the open door and 
into her little room, so that when Dor- 
othy found strength to turn and direct 
her eyes toward the bureau, what did 
she see ? Who was it, standing there ? 
Could one mistake the square awkward- 
ness of that figure ? 


STOP THIEP! 


55 


Yes, it was Meenie! In one hand 
she was folding pink ribbon round her 
waist, measuring off enough for a 
sash. In the other hand she held 
Dorothea’s shining scissors. 

To all of us there comes, at least 
once in our lives, a safe time to trust 
our impulses. It was so with Dorothea. 
She did not stop to reflect. She never 
considered how best to warn Meenie of 
her own presence on the balcony, and 
that she had discovered her in the very 
act of stealing. She planned no lecture 
on the ingratitude of fobbing one who 
had shown the thief only kindness. 
But she did a wiser thing than any of 
. these, although she did not know she 
was being wise. She called gayly, quite 
as though Meenie were a chum whom 
she knew to be in the next room : — 


56 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


“ Come out here, Meenie ! It’s beau- 
tiful in the moonlight, and I’m all 
alone.” 

By some irresistible charm the 
naughty child obeyed, dropping the 
scissors and the ribbon, uncut, into 
the drawer. 

“ Mebbe the babies’ll need me,” she 
suggested, sore ashamed. “Hist! wasn’t 
that Joy ? ” 

Dorothea did not heed. She threw 
one white arm about the unloved and 
unlovely child. 

“ Meenie, when to-morrow comes, at 
breakfast, you know, I’m going to give 
you something, shall I tell you what? 
Don’t let any one else know. We’ll 
surprise them ; it’s to be a long pink 
sash to match the hair ribbon.” 


STOP THIEF! 


57 


Meenie said never a word. She 
buried her homely face in both her 
hands and sped toward the nursery ; 
her clumsy figure was shaking with 
heavy sobs. 


CHAPTER VI 


HERE’S A LETTER FOR YOU! 

D OROTHEA! Dor-o-the-a ! 
Hullo, there ! Say, aren’t 
you ’most ready ? ” 

Open flew the girl’s door, and she 
stood at the top of the stairs smiling 
down over the banisters. 

“ Here they are, Billy, I hadn’t time 
to write any more. Hullo, everybody ! 
Won’t you bring the post-office up- 
stairs and read them all aloud?” 

Then changing her mind she dropped 
white envelopes one by one over the 
rail on the heads of her visitors. 
“ Gwen, dear, forgive me. Didn’t the 


68 


HERE’S A LETTER FOR YOU! 69 

corner of that one hit you in the eye? 
Oh, it must have hurt you ! Are you 
sure it didn’t? Oh, are you coming 
up? Well, come softly past the nurs- 
ery door. Pearl isn’t very well to-day. 
Or, better still, suppose you let me 
come down, and we’ll all go over to 
the tree and read our letters there.” 

“ This box is chock full, and only 
a week’s mail, too,” said Lawrence. 
“We never open it except on Sat- 
urdays. I wonder if Billy’s regular 
correspondent has favored him.” 
Everybody giggled. 

“ Oh, that dreadful secret again ! ” 
sighed Dorothea. 

They all sat down on the soft grass, 
Dorothea in the centre, and the others 
grouped about her. The “postmaster,” 


60 


THE MAKma OF MEENIE 


Lawrence, took a small key, and after 
fitting it into the padlock with much 
ceremony opened the box. 

“ Packages ! ” said Billy, while Gwen 
and Polly squealed at the surprise, and 
Lawrence gravely passed out the bun- 
dles. Dorothea had let him into the 
secret, at least to some extent. She 
had brought four of the parcels from 
Canada, and had asked Lawrence to 
put them in the box ; but there were 
two other bundles, and these were 
mysteries. 

The Canadian presents were almost 
too good to be true. For Billy and 
Lawrence, Dorothea had selected Eng- 
lish knives. They were the finest im- 
aginable, with a tiny pair of scissors 
in each and two strong blades. 



Lawrence took a small key and . . , opened the box. Page 60 



HERE'S A LETTER FOR YOU! 61 

Gwen’s box contained a dainty gold 
ring, set with a garnet. Polly had one 
like it, but her stone was a pearl. The 
initials of the owners had been en- 
graved inside each ring, and when the 
children discovered these, words failed 
to express their delight. Neither had 
ever owned a piece of jewellery of any 
kind, and they admired the simple 
rings with reverent awe. They flashed 
the stones in the sunlight, and de- 
clared that they had never seen any- 
thing so dazzling and so beautiful. 

“ Here’s another bundle for you, 
Billy.” 

It was a queer-shaped thing, and 
ill-wrapped in tumbled paper. The 
boy examined it with a twinkle in his 
eye. Then he revealed the oddest pin- 


62 


THE MAKING OF MEENIE 


cushion that ever saw light. It was a 
bunch of dark gingham, shirred with 
big stitches of red thread, and stuffed 
with cotton. Meenie had made it. 
The gingham matched the apron she 
wore. 

“ My pocket pinball,” said Billy. 
No one laughed. The gift was very 
pitiful. 

“Let’s see yours, Dolly.” 

She opened a bit of newspaper, and 
showed a candy heart which had once 
been white. There was a border of 
red about the heart and words, and 
the words were red. It said, “ Love 
me, love my dog,” but a lead-pencil 
mark had been drawn through the 
word “ my,” and above it Meenie 
had printed “your.” Thus the motto 


HERE'S A LETTER FOR YOU! 63 

read, — “Love me, love your dog.” 
According to the little maid this one 
sentence told Dorothea’s whole duty. 

“ Miss Dorothea Cameron, Miss Dor- 
othea Cameron, Miss, — my pity, Dolly, 
I hope you’ve got letters enough ! 
Here’s another, no — William Brails- 
ford. Esq., Miss Gwendolyn Brailsford, 
Miss Dorothea Cameron, Miss Cam- 
eron, Billy, — Mrs. Dorthy ! There, 
that’s all — no, one more, it’s for you. 
Poll ! ” 

And so at length the mail was de- 
livered until everybody had at least 
one letter, and Dorothea’s lap was 
piled high with white missives. 

“ Bead the letters aloud, all that are 
worth reading,” suggested Lawrence, 
“but don’t tell who wrote them.” 


64 


THE MAKING OF MEENIE 


“As old Betty says,” chimed in 
Billy, “ ‘ Tell de deed, but not de 
name.’ Fire ahead, somebody.” 
Dorothea began : — 

“ My dear Dorothea : 

“The leaf-butterfly has two 
sets of wings, with a dark line running 
along them from point to point that 
exactly resembles the midrib of a leaf, 
and there are lines running out from 
the centre that correspond to its veins. 
When the wings are folded the lower 
end of them imitates a stem and 
touches the twig when the butterfly 
is at rest, while their upper extremities 
are pointed in exact imitation of the 
point of the leaf. It is the habit of 
this butterfly to settle where there are 
several dead or partly withered leaves. 


HERE’S A LETTER FOR YOU! 65 


and you must have sharp eyes to dis- 
tinguish him from one of them. 

“Very sincerely,” 

“ Larry ! ” exclaimed three voices, 
Billy adding, “ I’d recognize him if I 
was in Kamchatka and heard this 
through a telephone.” 

Dorothea picked up a second letter. 

“Why, it’s a poem,’’' she said ap- 
preciatively. 

“FOUR YOUNG EAGLES 

“ High on the mountain, 

On the top of the peak, 

Live four young eagles 

Who say, ‘ Creak, creak, creak.’ 

“ The mother will fly home, 

With food in her bill. 

And give to the young ones 
The food with a will. 


66 THE MAKma OF MEENIE 

“The young ones will gather 
Around in a ring, 

And swallow the food 
With one good spring.” 

“ Good for Poll ! That must be hers, 
of course,” said Lawrence. “ Give us 
another ! ” 

“ My lovely friend, good and sweet- 
heart, Dorothea — ” 

“ Spare us, that’s Gwen, and not 
intended for the public eye,” begged 
Larry. But Billy, who liked Gwen’s 
affectionate ways, reached over and 
took the epistle, perusing it leniently 
and firing peanuts into Gwen’s apron 
from his own ever resourceful pocket. 

“ Read one of yours, Billy.” That 
hero’s eyes twinkled until there was 
danger of their quitting his head al- 
together. 


HEBE'S A LETTER FOB YOU! 67 
“ Deer frind : 

“ You was a supprise when 
the book of musik come but I dont no 
if I will use it I dont for git the time 
of the pik nik when your head was 
broke pleese excuse me I missed yow 
very mush I have a hen and a roster 
the hen has laid one egg and I hope 
will lay more and the roster tow and 
I have tools enuff to make a koop for 
them I have a cat named Pilot and he 
sits up and begs Mrs. Dorthy’s dog 
chases him I love her dog and Mrs. 
Dorthy she gave me the pink ribbing 
I love Pearl who is not so fat as Joy 
If you want to answer me I will give 
you my adress but I shall rite all my 
next letters to Mrs. Dorthy because 
she smiles at me every day I close 


68 


TEE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


with lost and lost and lost of bushels 
of love from — 

“ Meenie ! exclaimed the children 
in chorus, Gwen adding with a sigh of 
endurance, “ She’s always writing to 
him, and that's our secret, for he never 
answers her.” 

‘^What have you got, Gwen? Eead 
it.” The child made a very wry face 
and read: — 

“My dear Gwen: 

“ Rabbits are brown in sum- 
mer and white in winter. Many a 
. bunny has saved himself from the 
hunter’s gun by changing from brown 
to white when the snow falls.” 

“It’s horrid ; what do I care about 
rabbits? said Gwen, who was put 
out by Larry’s scorn of her letter to 


HERE'S A LETTER FOR YOU! 69 

Dorothy, and disappointed in the con- 
tents of her own envelope. 

“What have you there, Lawrence?” 

“ It’s more poetry,” he said, smiling 
at pink-cheeked Polly. 

“ Oh, now I smell the clover, 

And the honeysuckle vine, 

I sometimes dream. 

In the day’s first gleam. 

That all these flowers are wme/” 

“ That’s sweet, dear ; really very 
poetical,” said Dorothea. “ Most of 
mine are too private for me to read 
aloud, hut here’s one. I know you are 
all too kind-hearted to make fun of it. 

“Mrs. Dorthy — 

“ Dear Maddam — 

“ I aint got no time to 
rite no long letter, cause Pearl, she’s 


70 


THE M AKIN a OF MEENIE 


sick, but last winter I rote tbis pome 
and I will give it to you in tbe box. I 
never liked no one so mush as I do you 
— cept Pearl and Joy. 

“ When Christ was born 
The angels sang the story 
Ring the happy chime 
Children ring 
Children ring 

Send the massage far and wide 
Of the coming of our Lord. 

Bells of Christmas ring to and fro, 

With a happy ding-dong, dang, 

Saying slowly, with each bang 
Come to earth, come to earth 
To hear the parson pray and preach. 
Pray and preach, pray and preach. 

Of His happy hearth.” 


“With lost and lost and lost of bushels 
of love. 


0 0 0 0 0 .” 


“ Meenie. 


HERE'S A LETTER FOR YOU! 71 

Billy buried bis head in the grass 
and laughed until the tears rolled down 
his cheeks. 

“ I can’t help it, Dolly, honest, I 
can’t ! That comes from my telling 
her that all music was poetry and all 
poetry music. I’ll bet she sings that 
stuff to Pearl and Joy, and the poor 
tots drop off, drugged by her nonsense. 
I tell you that girl belongs in a circus 
troupe. I’ve always said so.” 

“ Billy Brailsford,” said Gwen, sud- 
denly and reproachfully, “ you didn’t 
write a single letter, and you promised 
last time you would.” 

“ What’s the matter with peanuts for 
a letter? ” he replied. “ Wasn’t there 
a message in every one? ” 


CHAPTER VII 


OUR BALL TEAM AND THE PRIDE OF THE 
KITCHEN 

O 00D-BY, Betty, — hope youTl 
be well again soon, — good- 
by! ” 

“We won’t forget to send you the 
flowers next Saturday.” 

“Look out for a letter from me.” 

“ Good-by.” 

“Good-by, mother darling. You’ll 
be back again to-night in time for sup- 
per, won’t you? ” 

“Yes, we’ll be very careful.” 

“ The idea, why of course we won’t 
quarrel. Take good care of Betty.” 


72 


OUR BALL TRAM 


73 


“ Betty, take good care of mother.” 

“ Good-by.” 

Gwen and Polly stood on the steps 
and waved to Mrs. Brailsford and to 
their old friend Betty as they drove 
away. They tried to keep the tears 
back and to “ brave it out ” by smiles 
as the carriage disappeared, but some- 
how it all seemed very sad. Faithful 
black Betty was very dear to both chil- 
dren. They could never remember home 
without her. Such plum-tarts, surprise- 
cakes, and jumbles as her magic fingers 
could make ! Such funny stories as her 
ready brain invented, all for fun ! 

But a sad accident had befallen Betty. 
She had stumbled on the cellar stairs 
and had broken her arm, and so it hap- 
pened that Mrs. Brailsford had gone 


74 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


with her to the hospital to have the 
arm “ set ” and to see the good woman 
made comfortable. 

“ Do you s’pose the doctor will hurt 
our Betty ? ” asked Polly, with trem- 
bling lips. “ She cried awfully when 
the arm broke, but she said she didn’t 
hear it break.” 

“ Oh, he’ll fix her up all right,” said 
Gwen, trying to be cheerful. “ Did 
you hear her call ‘ Good-by, Sunshine,’ 
to you as the carriage door slammed ? ” 

“No; did she remember to call 
me ‘ Sunshine ’ ? ” said Polly, looking 
pleased, for she liked the old cook’s 
pet name for her and tried to deserve 
it. 

“What time is it, Gwen?” called a 
voice from the cellar, where Billy was 


OUR BALL TEAM 


75 


chopping wood. “ Isn’t lunch nearly 
ready? ” 

“ Why, Billy Brailsford, aren’t you 
ashamed of yourself?” laughed his 
sister. “ It’s only twenty-five minutes 
past nine, and you’ve just eaten your 
breakfast — why, Polly and I haven’t 
begun to wash the dishes yet. We had 
the beds to make, and — everything.” 

“What did mother say about lunch?” 
asked Billy, appearing in the doorway 
with both arms full of kindlings and 
looking rather nervous. 

“ She said — ” remarked Gwen, wav- 
ing the dish-towel industriously and 
feeling quite important — “she said 
that we were to have just a simple 
lunch, — bread and butter, and cold 
lamb, and apple sauce, and cookies, 


76 


THE MAEINa OF MEENIE 


and she would have something hot for 
us to-night at supper.” 

“Is that all?” said he, disappointed. 

“ Why, Bill, you couldn’t expect poor 
Betty to cook with a broken arm, or 
mother either, when she was putting 
bandages on Betty every live minutes 
— up all night long with her.” 

“Of course not;” adding rather 
shamefacedly, “ only I don’t like to 
ask my friends to take meals with 
me when there’s nothing to eat.” 

“ Oh, Billy, who did you ask, and 
when are they coming? Quick, Polly, 
give me the mop ! Oh, Billy, why 
didn't you tell me before ? ” moaned 
Gwen. 

“Don’t feel badly about it, Gwen, 
please don’t. You know Howard 


OUR BALL TEAM 


11 


Knapp and Tom Steele and that new 
fellow, Dick Pembroke. They all ask 
me to take meals with them all the 
time. Why, I’ve been to hundreds of 
meals with those fellows and almost 
never ask them here, now do I ? ” 

“When are they coming?” demanded 
Gwen. 

“ Why, you see,” said Billy, very 
humbly, “Larry went over to Knapp’s 
to play ball there, and I told him as 
long as mother wouldn’t be here to 
feel bothered he could tell those fel- 
lows to come to lunch here at half- 
past twelve.” 

“ Isn’t Larry coming back before 
then to help get the lunch ? ” asked 
Gwen, excitedly. 

“ Why, no. I told him to stay till 


78 


THE MAKma OF MEENIE 


the game was over. I'll do anything 
you want — any errands. I’m awful 
sorry, honest I am. I thought you’d 
think it was fun.” 

“ But, Billy, look ; there isn’t lamb 
enough for so many,” said G-wen, sor- 
rowfully. She had lifted the lid of 
the ice-chest, showing only a small 
piece of the meat in question. 

“ How many cookies have we got, 
Polly? You run to the box and count, 
that’s a good child.” The burden of 
housekeeping made Gwen feel sud- 
denly grown up and her sister quite 
a baby. 

“ Seven,” announced Polly, hopping 
out of the pantry on one foot. “ One 
of ’em’s broke.” 

“ I call that pretty short rations on 


OUR BALL TEAM 


79 


cookies,” said Billy. “ Only seven. 
Hold on, why don’t we buy some 
things? Mother wouldn’t want us to 
ask people to come here and then 
starve them. Ton could cook some- 
thing, if you had it, couldn’t you ? 
You’re a smart enough girl for that. 
Get mother’s cook-book, that’ll tell you 
just what to do. I’ll order something 
from the butcher. What do you say 
to a chicken ? ” 

“Well — ” said Gwen, doubtfully, — 
anything seemed better than letting 
her guests starve, — “ are you certain 
sure the cook-book will tell me just 
what to do to a chicken?'' 

“Why, of course it will. What’s a 
cook-book for if not to tell you how 
to cook ? A chicken will be fine — the 


80 


THE MAKINa OF MEEJSTIE 


boys will think chicken’s a bully lunch. 
Why, I bet Howard Knapp could eat 
a whole one. You ought to see him 
dive into chicken over at his own house 
when I’ve been there to meals.” 

Even this proof of her guest’s appe- 
tite failed to comfort Gwen, who said 
somewhat fiercely : — 

‘‘ If he tries to eat the whole of our 
chicken after I’ve cooked it and had 
all the trouble about it, he’ll never 
be invited here again.” 

Billy hurried toward the door. I’ll 
buy some macaroons,” he called. 

Don’t forget potatoes^ they’re in the 
cellar.” 

Gwen did not reply at once, but 
when he had reached the gate she 
rushed after him, only to trip on her 


OUB BALL TEAM 


81 


mother’s long apron and fall headlong. 
She lay face downward for a moment, 
and when he had picked her up 
sobbed out : — 

“No, I’m not hurt, really. I only 
wanted to tell you not to buy any 
chicken with — with feathers on it — 
because — ” sobbing softly, “I don’t — 
know how to pull them out.” 

“There, there,” said Billy, tenderly, 
“ don’t you worry. I’ll buy a nice 
little chicken without so much as a 
pin-feather on him. You’ll find the 
potatoes in the cellar in a big box. 
Tom Steele calls potatoes ‘ murphies.’ 
Oh, we’ll have a jolly party out of 
this ! I declare, it’s beginning to rain. 
I must sprint, but I’ll be back in a 
jiffy. Sure you’re all right ? ” 


82 


THE MAKING- OF MEENIE 


Gwen hobbled into the house and 
said to Polly, who was playing with 
the kitten and had not seen her fall : — 

“ I nearly broke my arm. How 
would you like to have had me go to 
the hospital ? ” 

Polly’s large eyes filled with horror. 
“ Oh, Gwen ! ” she murmured in a 
frightened whisper. 

“Would you mind getting the po- 
tatoes, Polly ? Eeally, I’m awfully 
lame. You know where Betty always 
kept them,” said Gwen, vaguely. 
Polly dropped the kitten and sped 
down cellar. 

Gwen reached for the cook-book and 
found the place ; then she read aloud, 
trying to understand : — 

“ ‘ Singe ; remove pin-feathers, oil- 


OUR BALL TEAM 


bag, crop, legs, and tendons. Wipe, 
stuff, sew, and tie into shape. Place 
on one side in dripping-pan without 
water.’ ” 

A timid voice from below stairs 
called, “ Gwen, dear, the box is too 
heavy — I — can’t — lift it.” 

“ I don’t want the whole box,” 
shouted Gwen. “ Put ten big potatoes 
in your apron and come along.” 

Then she continued reading. 

“ ‘ Dredge ’ — I wonder what ‘ dredge’ 
means — ‘ and rub all over with salt, 
pepper, soft butter, and flour.’ ” 

Polly stumped up the stairs, dropped 
one corner of her apron by mistake, 
and the potatoes rolled in every direc- 
tion on the kitchen floor. She stooped 
to pick them up, blushing and sorry. 


84 


THE MAKING OF MEENIE 


“ Mashed potatoes are good with 
chicken, aren’t they, Polly ? ” said 
Gwen, forgetting to scold. 

“Do you take a hammer to them?” 
asked the younger sister. 

Gwen did not trust herself to answer 
at once. She found “ Potatoes ” in the 
index of the cook-book, and read aloud 
to ignorant Polly : — 

“ ‘ To one pint of hot boiled potatoes 
add one tablespoon of butter and one- 
half teaspoonful of salt, one-half salt- 
spoonful of pepper, and hot milk to 
moisten. Mash in the kettle in which 
they were boiled.’ ” 

“Why, Polly, that’s real easy, we’ll 
begin right off — how it rains ! ” 

“ Hurrah ! Here’s the chicken. Are 
you sure it’s good, Billy ? ” 


OUB BALL TEAM 


85 


“Good? Why, it’s the finest thing 
you ever saw in your life. See its nice, 
soft, little yellow feet. Yellow is a 
sure sign it’s tender. See me wiggle 
its toes.” 

“ Oh, please don’t, it makes me 
crawl.” 

“ It did have little pin-feathers all 
over it, — another sign it’s a young 
bird, — but the butcher burnt them off.” 

“Did it hurt?” asked Polly of the 
tender heart. 

Her brother smiled pityingly, made 
no reply to her simple question, but 
proceeded to tell of the charms of his 
purchase. 

“ Look, Gwen, the man took all the 
insides out of it so you wouldn’t have 
to. Aren’t you glad ? ” 


86 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

“ Oh, how kind of him ! ” exclaimed 
Gwen, gratefully. Her finger was on 
the page where the book said “ Roast 
Chicken.” 

“ See, that good man has done all 
the first part. I’ve got to begin where 
it says, ‘Wipe, stuff, sew, and tie into 
shape.’ — No, there’s one thing, and, 
oh, Billy, I can't do it, I haven’t the 
heart to do it — to cut off its little, 
soft yellow feet. Do you suppose it 
would be decent to leave them on ? ” 

Billy whistled and looked amused. 

“You and Polly run into the dining 
room,” he said, “and leave me alone 
with this bird.” He waved the carv- 
ing-knife as he spoke, and Polly fled, 
but Gwen stood beside him. Her eyes 
were shut tight, and she put her fingers 


OUR BALL TEAM 


87 


in her ears. Billy smiled as he re- 
moved the feet and threw them in the 
fire. He wondered if Gwen expected 
the dead chicken to cry out because 
he had cut them off. Why had she 
shut her ears? Girls were very queer. 

“ We’ll boil these next,” said Gwen, 
examining the dark and knobby pota- 
toes with doubt. 

“ Look here, lady gay, it’s twelve 
o’clock. We’ll have to shake a leg, 
every one of us, or they’ll be here. 
Don’t bother to boil these murphies 
— roast ’em,” and he began piling 
them into the oven. “ Potatoes are 
good roasted — best in the world. 
You ought to see Tom Steele do away 
with roast potatoes; besides, why, we 
haven’t much time.” 


88 


THE MAKING OF MEENIE 


“ Hullo, theyVe come ! Bless my 
soul! Larry’s brought — my pity — 
the whole nine, and the chicken isn’t 
even stuffed yet.” 

There was the tramping of feet on 
the steps outside, and the scraping of 
muddy boots on the mat, and then 
Larry flung open the kitchen door and 
what seemed to Gwen like a small 
army burst into the kitchen. 

Billy greeted the guests with joy. 
Polly grew shy and retired into the 
kitchen closet. Gwen had been pre- 
pared for three visitors, but she could 
not conceal her dismay upon beholding 
nine. 

She was standing on a chair exam- 
ining the contents of the oven. Her 
sleeves were rolled to the shoulder, and 


OUB BALL TEAM 


89 


she still wore the long apron which 
had caused her downfall early in the 
day. Her cheeks were very red from 
heat and excitement. Tom whispered 
to Howard, “ Gwen’s a regular little 
queen, ain’t she ? ” 

She waved her plump arm in the 
direction of the dining room, saying ; — 
“ Larry, please take all your friends 
except Howard and Tom into the li- 
brary. There they can amuse them- 
selves until lunch is served. I’m 
afraid it will be a very long time. My 
fire isn’t very hot, and,” smiling sor- 
rowfully, “ my chicken isn’t even in 
the oven yet. Howard and Tom will 
please help Polly set the table in the 
dining room. Kemember, there must 
be twelve dishes, and twelve of every- 


90 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


thing ; never mind if plates don’t match. 
Billy, you stay here with me.” 

Having issued her orders, the young 
cook descended from her chair by the 
upper oven, opened the closet door to 
find the bread box, and discovered the 
fat form of hiding Polly. 

At this the clan of boys laughed long 
and heartily. At length Larry coaxed 
her from her retreat, and he and Tom 
made a “Lady’s Chair” for her with 
their hands. Thus the procession 
moved out of the kitchen, and Gwen 
and Billy, looking helplessly at the 
chicken, were left alone. She flung 
her arms about his faithful neck. 

“ Oh, Billy, isn’t it dreadful of Larry 
to bring so many boys? What should 
I do if you weren’t here to help me? 


OUR BALL TEAM 


91 


I was SO ’shamed to have them see that 
chicken without even a pin-feather on 
him, and not a crumb of stuffing ! What 
shall we do ? ” 

“Why, we’ll stuff it; where’s your 
rule ? ” 

Gwen sighed. Then she resolutely 
took up the cook-book and read 
aloud : — 

“^Stuffing: moisten one cup of soft 
bread crumbs with one-third of a cup 
of melted butter; season highly with 
salt, pepper, and thyme.’ ” 

“ What in the world is thyme ? ” 

“ Can’t guess, leave it out ; but 
hold on, the rest is no trick at all — 
I’ll do it ! ” and practical Billy made a 
dive for the bread box, threw a lump 
of butter into a tin cup to melt on 


92 


THU MAKING OF MEENIE 


the stove, while Gwen watched him 
proudly with wonder and envy at his 
skill. 

“ Let me season it. Doesn’t it look 
queer? Oh, Billy, don’t! Do cooks 
always put it in with their hands ? 
Are you sure ? All right. I’ll get the 
needle and thread, for the book says 
‘ sew.’ ” 

Keturning with her Avork-bag, Gwen 
eyed the chicken with disfavor and 
some anxiety. Billy had stuffed the 
bird to bursting, and he Avas proud of 
his Avork ; yet something about its legs 
looked queer. 

“ Wait, sis ; I know,” said he, struck 
with a happy thought. “Didn’t the 
book say ‘ tie into shape ’ ? Don’t you 
knoAv Betty always crosses the legs 


OUR BALL TEAM 


93 


and ties them so ? ” He showed her. 
Gwen was delighted. 

“ Billy, you’re the smartest boy I 
ever saw. Here’s a dear little pink 
ribbon. It will be just the thing. I 
meant to save it for my doll’s hair, but 
I’d much rather our chicken’d have it. 
Won’t it look stylish when it comes on 
the table ? ” 

Billy was doubtful as to the style of 
tying the chicken’s legs with the pink 
ribbon, but it seemed stronger than 
thread, and so he used it. Gwen made 
a little bow on top, patted it, and 
smiled. Then she drew a long pink 
thread through her needle and sewed 
the chicken quite cleverly. It was 
Billy’s turn to admire her now, but he 
was far too busy. 


94 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


He found a large pan, threw a chunk 
of butter into it, and then lifted the 
chicken in with care. 

Gwen giggled. “ It looks something 
like a baby in a bath-tub ; isn’t it too 
funny ! ” 

He opened the lower oven and put 
it in. 

“ Oven’s cold.” 

He hoisted the scuttle, she took off 
the stove lid, and he piled in the coal. 

“ Take a look at the murphies, 
Gwen.” Then remembering that she 
could not reach the upper oven with- 
out a chair, Billy opened the door 
himself. He made a dive into two 
or three of the potatoes with a long 
fork, and declared cheerfully, “Harder 
than rocks ! ” and slammed the door. 


OUR BALL TEAM 


95 


It was nearly one o’clock. Gwen 
looked at Billy; they both looked at 
the clock, then he burst out laughing, 
linked his arm in hers, and said: — 

“ Never you mind, Gwennie ; when 
that fire comes up, things will begin to 
cook, and we’ll have a fine dinner. 
Did the book say how long to roast a 
chicken ? ” 

Both heads bent industriously over 
the page for a minute. Presently 
Gwen found it, and read triumphantly, 
‘“Boast from an hour and a half to two 
hours.’ ” 

“ Whew ! That puts dinner off till 
nearly three o’clock. However, it can’t 
be helped. Come on, let’s see how 
Tom and Howard are fixing things in 
the dining room. I bet they can’t get 


96 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


a word of direction out of Poll, she’s 
so shy.” 

Billy flung open the dining-room 
door. There was nobody there. Yet 
both children saw that, as far as Tom 
and Howard were able, with what few 
words they could get from Polly, they 
had set the table for twelve. 

It was just the little round dining 
table used by the five members of the 
household. On it were stacked pyra- 
mids of twelve plates, twelve saucers, 
and two steeples of glass tumblers 
with six in each. In another pile 
were twelve butter plates, and again 
a neat pile of twelve napkins. A 
bunch of forks and another of knives 
completed the outlay. Eleven chairs 
were arranged close against the wall. 


OUB BALL TEAM 


97 


“ For all the world like a school,” 
giggled Gwen. “ I never saw such a 
room! What would Betty say if she 
could see this heap of a table ? ” 

The twelfth chair was pulled up to 
the table. Upon it was a red cushion, 
and fastened on the back was a large 
pasteboard. On this Tom had printed, 
“ Our Queen.” 

“ Look 1 they’ve fixed the whole 
thing kind of Indian fashion,” said 
Billy. “ Couldn’t you dress up a 
little ? I’ll look out for the dinner. 
Larry’s playing on the piano in there, 
and they’ll all get to singing. Coax 
Polly out and rig her up somehow.” 

Gwen’s eyes danced with fun. 

“I know the very thing — the red 
silk dress in the garret, and all those 


98 


THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 


chains and things, and my hair down, 

— I wish it was long and very straight, 

— and the play-earrings, and the war- 
paint! Don’t you dare to leave the 
chicken alone while I’m gone, Billy 
Brailsford — and, oh, Polly shall put 
on her white and silver fairy dress 
and be a sprite ! ” 

Gwen was gone in a trice. She 
beckoned mysteriously to Polly, who, 
alarmed at she knew not what, tip- 
toed whispering up the stairs, and 
they were both soon in all the excite- 
ment of dressing up. 

Time flew while they were hunting 
through old trunks and boxes. 

It was an easy matter to put on 
Polly’s “fairy dress,” and the sweet 
little sister waved her gauzy wings 


OUR BALL TEAM 


99 


while Gwen brushed her golden head, 
and put the crown there — the won- 
derful crown with a shining star that 
sparkled above her pure forehead. 

“ Oh, Polly, you do look too sweet ! ” 
exclaimed Gwen at length ; “ fasten 
this waist for me, it’s so tight. Lend 
me all your strings of beads, won’t 
you? Indian queens have to wear 
dozens of chains, you know. Keally, 
don’t you like to have me wear the 
war-paint ? It’ll all wash off, you 
know. 

“Those bracelets are fine. Eeal 
queens cover their whole arms with 
them — why, why, — what a queer, 
what a dreadful smell! Oh, it must 
be the potatoes — or else — that dear 
chicken!” and the would-be Queen 


100 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

rushed for the stairs and nearly fell 
headlong in her haste to reach the 
kitchen. The Fairy came flying after, 
losing her crown and one wing as she 
ran. They reached the door at the 
very moment when Larry and his 
eight comrades, guided by the same 
smell, and alarmed lest the long-de- 
layed dinner had gone up in smoke, 
all rushed pell-mell to the kitchen. 

“ What’s burnt ? ” demanded the 
Indian Queen. The Fairy put one 
dimpled hand to her nose as though 
to stop the power of smelling. But 
Billy’s voice rose above the tumult, 
putting an end to all anxiety, and big 
with the comfort he brought. 

“ Only a couple of potatoes. I 
dropped ’em into the fire by mistake; 


OUR BALL TEAM 101 

the lid was off, and I was sticking the 
fork in to see if they were done and 
two of the little ones rolled in — that’s 
all. Say, Gwen, you look great in 
that rig. Do you know, I believe 
this chicken is done ! Isn’t it a 
beaut? ” 

‘ ‘ Fine ! ’ ’ exclaimed every one. “ Let’ s 
eat something right away.” 

“ I’m going home if we have to 
wait much longer.” 

“ That’s right, run home and tell.” 

“I’m so sorry, boys, we’ve only got 
eight potatoes now, two are burned up ; 
do please excuse it,” said the Indian 
Queen, blushing. “ Billy and Polly 
and I don’t care for any, anyway, we’d 
rather eat ” — a little pause while she 
racked her brain, wondering what she 


102 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

would rather eat, at last — chicken; 
we don’t care mucli about potatoes.” 

Then they all gathered about Billy 
while he brought a platter and upset 
the chicken into it. How delicious 

9 

were the sight and smell ! The hungry 
boys formed couples and danced about 
the kitchen, singing and shrieking with 
anticipation. 

The potatoes were all a little burned, 
and Gwen thought she had never seen 
such dirty potatoes. She wondered 
if Betty scrubbed potatoes before she 
baked them. It was no time now to 
ask such a question. 

At Larry’s command the boys stopped 
prancing. They stepped aside and the 
Indian Queen, bearing the dish of 
smoking potatoes, headed the proces- 


OUR BALL TEAM 


103 


sion. Next came the Fairy, whose 
crown had been found and replaced 
on her head. She bore a plate piled 
high with snowy bread. Then came 
the brave and desperately hungry Ind- 
ian Chiefs, laden respectively with 
golden butter, a small platter of cold 
lamb, a glass dish of apple sauce, 
a plate of seven cookies, and as many 
macaroons as Billy’s liberal hands 
could pile upon it — there were more 
in the paper bag. Tom Steele carried 
a great pitcher full of cold and creamy 
milk. Last and most triumphant 
marched Billy, with the pride of the 
kitchen — a roast chicken of which no 
cook, old or young, need have felt 
ashamed. 

Howard pulled out the one chair at 


104 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

the table and the Queen was enthroned 
upon her rosy cushion. Then the 
Chiefs took their seats in the other 
chairs, as ravenous a line of boys as 
ever sat down to a dinner nearly three 
hours late. 

Billy looked embarrassed for a min- 
ute, then quickly rose, knife in hand, 
to carve the chicken. He thought if 
he carved it right away Gwen would 
forget about the blessing. Not so. 
The Indian Queen raised a very red 
face and said to her loyal subjects : — 

“ Boys, and Polly, we’ll all say a 
Quaker blessing — I mean one that 
isn’t out loud, and then we’ll eat ! ” 

She bowed her own curly head, and 
for a minute the room was very still. 
Nobody laughed. 


OUR BALL TEAM 


105 


When Gwen raised her face, she 
smiled sweetly upon all. Billy made 
a dive for the bird, and the fun began. 

You never saw boys eat so. It was 
really a wonder they didn’t eat the 
potato skins, dirt and all. They carved 
that chicken to the bone. Oh! I for- 
got to say that the pink “ foot ribbon,” 
of which Gwen was so proud, had 
turned quite brown in the cooking. 
Billy believes to this day that hungry 
Dick Pembroke ate that ribbon with 
his drumstick, and perhaps he did. 

The best part of it all was that the 
Indian Chiefs helped the Queen and 
the Fairy wash all the dishes and put 
things in fine order. By the time this 
was over it was nearly six o’clock and 
raining still. 


106 THE MAEINa OF MEENIE 

The boys had praised the good 
dinner and shouted three cheers for 
the cook as they filed out, a line of 
black umbrellas and flying black legs 
all the way to the gate. Gwen was 
tired, but she was happy, too. She 
told Billy not to take the sign down 
from the chair at the end of the table, 
and when mother came home, with 
good news of Betty, they told her of 
their day, and gladly installed her in 
the seat of honor as “ Our Queen.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


EEVENGE 

S TRIKE me again, if yer dare ! ” 
Meenie’s black eyes blazed as 
she stood before the angry 
cook, who had boxed her ears. 

“ I’ll kill yer, I will ! No one never 
hated no one like I hate you. I’ll kill 
yer ! ” and the girl raised a stone and 
hurled it after Biddy’s retreating form. 
Fortunately for the cook, the stone 
missed its aim, crashing instead through 
the violet frames in the garden. 

“Miss Sargeant’ll give it ter you, 
young varmint that you be. It’s more 
than an ear-boxin’ ye desarve afther 


107 


108 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

burnin’ up the beautiful switch of 
foine hair that me man was afther 
a-bringin' me,” said Biddy, justly 
indignant. 

Meenie, with tingling ears and wrath- 
ful heart, sought the barn. She had 
been vexed with the cook and had put 
her false hair into the stove. She 
hated everybody — Biddy most of all. 
The fact that she had done wrong 
and deserved the punishment visited 
upon her was of small concern to the 
angry child. Her heart beat high 
with a desire for revenge. There was 
one who might have helped her if 
she could have gone to her with her 
wicked feelings, but “ Mrs. Dorthy ” 
was not at home, and so it happened 
Meenie fled to the barn. 


REVENGE 


109 


There was a rat in the barn, but she 
had no fear of rats. In childhood they 
had been like playmates. This fellow 
was gaunt, and hungry, and loathsome. 
It looked almost black as it crept from 
under the hay or crouched in a corner 
of the loft. 

There was a trap half concealed under 
some rafters. It was one of those cage 
traps where Mr. Eat may enter without 
harm, but return less easily. The trap 
was strong of cheese, and the rat was 
weak with hunger. 

Meenie sat down. She was fasci- 
nated. She felt that something was 
about to happen. She was right. 

The rat crawled about aimlessly for 
a while, nibbling at an old beam which 
was not much to his liking. Then he 


110 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

advanced suspiciously toward the trap. 
With pointed nose along the floor, and 
at a safe distance, he sniffed the cheese. 
Several times he repeated these ma- 
noeuvres, retreating toward his corner 
and crouching there, with paws up as 
though prepared to spring. 

Presently gnawing hunger possessed 
him — a hunger greater than fear. He 
glided forward, approached, and then 
thrust his head into the prison’s very 
door. At the same instant the weight 
of his body made the trap spring. 
Snap! He was caught. 

Meenie threw herself face downward 
in the hay, close to the cage. She 
studied the prisoner with joy. He 
struggled against the wire bars. He 
squealed for members of the rat tribe to 


REVENGE 


111 


come to his assistance. The more he 
squealed, the louder Meenie laughed. 

At length she rose, grasped the trap 
hy a wire handle at its top, and made 
her way out of the barn and by an un- 
nsed path toward the house. 

It was Sunday afternoon. Soft 
shadows played across the grass and 
the stone walls where nasturtiums 
climbed. Birds sang in the trees 
above her. The ladies and babies had 
gone to drive. A holy stillness per- 
vaded everything except the heart of 
the little maid. This heart beat high. 
It exulted. Meenie had planned the 
manner of her revenge, and revenge 
was sweet. 

After boxing Meenie’s ears, Biddy 
had gone up the back stairs to the 


112 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

third story room. There she had com- 
posed her perturbed mind to a Sunday 
afternoon nap. Her “mind” and two 
hundred odd pounds of flesh were on 
that bed. Biddy snored, and the bed 
creaked. 

Thus it happened that the kitchen 
was deserted. Meenie ascended the 
back steps, waving a full rat-trap. She 
pushed open the door and found herself 
alone. 

“Wash day to-morrow,” she chuckled, 
as she tip-toed across the floor. The 
kitchen was a spacious room — in fact, 
two rooms that had been thrown into 
one. At one end were the laundry 
tubs. These had heavy lids and were 
lined with zinc. 

Meenie set the trap on the floor. It 


BEVENaE 


113 


took both hands to raise the cover of 
one tub. She surveyed the zinc lining 
with pride. The Fates were very kind, 
and everything was exactly to her lik- 
ing. The tub was empty now, but on 
the morrow, when Biddy’s energetic 
arm — the arm that had struck her — 
should attack a Monday’s wash, there 
would be something in the tub, wouldn’t 
there ? Meenie fairly smacked her lips 
at the thought. 

She had heard Biddy scream once, 
oh, how she screamed ! It was only 
a mouse then. The naughty child 
fairly chuckled at what might happen 
when this rat should spring out upon 
her enemy. 

“ Mebbe he will bite Biddy, and per- 
haps — ” she hardly dared to hope — 


114 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

“ perhaps Biddy will die ! ” she said, 
half aloud. 

It took real skill to open the tub 
and the rat-trap, each wide enough 
but not too wide. Meenie’s ready fin- 
gers managed both. She closed the 
tub, listened for a moment to the sound 
of claws against the zinc lining, and 
then glided through the kitchen door 
and into the smiling stillness of the 
Sabbath afternoon. 

##**** 

An hour later, when Biddy was re- 
freshed by her nap and was neatly 
dressed for the afternoon, she came 
creaking down the back stairs and into 
the kitchen. 

She heard sounds from the tub and 
ventured in its direction. She raised 


REVENGE 


115 


the lid just a crack and then gave 
one fearful shriek which pierced the 
Sunday stillness, “Help! murder! fire! 
help ! ” Her cry brought Mike from 
the pasture, and he made short work 
of killing the rat and ending her 
alarm. 

Meenie had one delicious peep at 
Mike fanning the trembling and tearfnl 
Biddy; bnt her joy was short-lived, for 
the cook refused to die of fright, deter- 
mined to live on and to box Meenie’s 
ears whenever occasion required. 


CHAPTER IX 


EVERYBODY WINS 

“O UT do people ever really en- 
joy Sunday-school picnics?” 
asked Dorothea. “ Of course 
we have the wearisome things at home, 
but they are days of never-to-be-forgot- 
ten torture. I couldn’t imagine ever 
having a good time at one.” 

Mrs. Sargeant smiled. “Try ours, 
dear. I only wish I were able to go 
with you; but Pearl is not real well, 
and I don’t dare leave her for the 
whole afternoon.” 

“Where is it to be?” 


116 


EVERYBODY WINS 


117 


“ Over at Silver Lake this year, just 
below the Falls. The banks along the 
lake make the finest sort of a race- 
course, and Quaker Hill is our supper 
table. The launches and canoes run 
back and forth all the afternoon.” 

“ Who goes ? ” 

“ Well, first and foremost, our young 
minister, Mr. Darcy. He is ‘ Master 
of Ceremonies.’ Then, the entire 
school goes down, — superintendent, 
teachers and scholars, parents and 
friends. You’ll not see one unenjoy- 
ing face among them all. Take my 
advice, Dorothea, and go.” 

“ I believe I will,” exclaimed the 
girl ; adding rather bashfully, “ If you 
could spare Meenie, Auntie, I wish you 
would let me invite her to go, too. I 


118 THE MAKma OF MEENIE 

should feel less lonely, and she is such 
a pathetic creature.” 

Both ladies glanced toward the gar- 
den shed, where sat Meenie, stringing 
beans into a tin pan. She was “ pa- 
thetic ” — somehow her dark face and 
heavy figure looked even more wretched 
than usual. 

“ Surely, you may take her and wel- 
come. I hope you’ll not be ashamed 
of your odd companion. The poor 
child works hard, and it seems to me 
she tries to improve,” and Mrs. Sar- 
geant sighed wearily. 

And so it came about that when the 
two o’clock yacht reached the wharf, 
Dorothea, all in white, and Meenie, in 
spandy clean checked gingham, stepped 
off together. 


EVERYBODY WINS 


119 


“ Too bad you missed the water 
sports, miss,” said a friendly voice 
near Dorothea. “We had canoe races, 
and tub races, — the little fellers they 
tried to push each other out of the 
tubs, — yonder little youngster got a 
fine ducking. Mr. Darcy, he planned 
the fun. He’s a great man for fun, is 
the Eev. Mr. Darcy.” 

Dorothea smiled and nodded, watched 
and listened. 

The games were “on,” and the 
young minister was announcing the 
various contests amid shouts of ap- 
plause. Dorothea liked his face. His 
head was bared to the breeze, his 
cheeks glowed with splendid health, 
and his fine eyes sparkled like a school- 
boy’s. 


120 THE MAKlNa OF MEENIE 

“ One-boot Race — All boys under 
eight years old may compete,” shouted 
Mr. Darcy’s clear voice. “ Boys, proceed, 
take off left boot, race to yonder clump 
of birch trees, return to boot pile, pick 
out your own, lace up every single lace, 
and run back to goal. There are two 
prizes for this, aren’t there, Mr. Finn ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; two good ones ! ” reassured 
the superintendent. 

“ Come along, boys, don’t be bash- 
ful ! — Seven entries, good ! Off with 
a shoe, every one of you. Mix up the 
boot-pile so each boy’ll have plenty of 
trouble to find his own. One, two, 
ready, go!— What, Pete’s shoe on 
too, and all laced ? Bravo for Gabriel ! 
Bless your hearts, each one of you boys 
will make a first-rate fireman.” 


EVERYBODY WINS 


121 


How Dorothea laughed! Each lad 
hunting his own shoe was the funniest 
part — a regular foot-ball scrimmage, 
with arms and legs in every direction. 
“ I wish I’d brought the Brailsford chil- 
dren,” thought she. “ How Billy and 
Larry would have liked that 1 ” 

Then followed peanut races for boys 
between eight and fourteen, and po- 
tato races for girls between fourteen 
and eighteen, and then an egg 
race. Dorothea had never seen one 
like it. 

The contesting maidens started from 
goal, each bearing a raw egg in a tea- 
spoon. As the girl hurried, spectators 
cheered, and eggs flew disastrously. 
At last one cool-headed, swift-footed, 
and steady-handed young maid reached 


122 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

tlie birch trees, and landed her egg at 
their base, unbroken. 

“ Three-legged Race — for all boys 
under sixteen,” shouted the versatile 
Mr. Darcy. Harold’s left and Tom’s 
right leg were lashed together. Thus 
they raced against a second duet, simi- 
larly impeded. The winning couple 
in each case competed with a new pair 
until all the entries had been made. 
The Hansinger twins won an easy 
victory. In fact, they managed so well 
on three legs, Dorothea wondered why 
they had ever been provided with four. 

^‘Girls' Cable Race — for all lady 
visitors under twenty-five ! ” As Mr. 
Darcy made this announcement, he 
smiled so invitingly at Dorothea that 
she felt sorely tempted to try. 


EVERYBODY WINS 


123 


“ Beant you below twenty-five, Mrs. 
Dortby?” asked Meenie, alluringly, at 
her side. “ Go on, try fer it. It don’t 
hurt no one.” 

“ Hush, Meenie ! Tes, my age is 
all right ; but I never in the world 
could twist my feet like that, — look ! ” 

Mr. Darcy had placed two ropes, 
about twenty yards long, parallel, and 
perhaps six feet apart. Each started 
with both feet on the same side of 
her rope, alternating feet as she ran, 
one foot on one side, and vice versa, 
skipping swiftly and not touching the 
rope. It looked very difficult. 

“ Lady Teachers' Driving-nail Con- 
test," declared the young minister, 
gleefully. 

An oak beam was placed at the end 


124 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

of the race-course. At its base and 
equidistant were arranged groups of 
one hammer and a nail. Each lady 
was to start at a given point, run 
twenty yards, pick up a hammer, and 
drive her nail into the beam, down to 
its head. The one who did this first 
was to receive a prize. 

“ Don’t smash your fingers, ladies ! ” 
warned Mr. Darcy, as he rescued baby 
Gay, who had begun a perilous voyage 
across the race-track. Dorothea saw 
him put her peachy cheek close to his 
before he set her on her feet. Then 
she missed Meenie from her side. 

The girl had darted in and out 
through the crowd and was standing 
close to the young man, her hand 
upon his sleeve. All eyes were fast- 


EVEBYBODY WIN8 


125 


ened on handsome Kate Sparks. She 
was wielding her hammer like a Titan, 
and with splendid blows had driven 
her nail home. “ All eyes ” but Doro- 
thea’s. She saw Meenie, blue-checked 
apron and all, standing beside the 
minister, and her cheeks grew hot 
with mortification at the sight. 

“ Make up somethin’ fer me to do, 
kin yer?” whispered Meenie. 

“Something for you?” repeated Mr. 
Darcy, looking down upon homely 
Meenie, as tenderly as though she 
were luscious Gay. “Let — me — see 
— I wonder what would be nice for 
you? — Oh, I have it!” Then in 
ringing voice he shouted : — 

“ Bare-footed Race — for all girls 
who are — how old are you?” 


126 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

“ ^Leven/^ she whispered. 

Who are between nine and twelve/^ 
continued the Master of Ceremonies. 

Dorothea saw Meenie pull off shoes 
and stockings, disclosing feet of goodly 
size. Then she took her place at the 
starting-point, eagerly and alone. 

There was a murmur of surprise, 
almost of dissatisfaction, among the 
observers. Mr. Darcy smiled encour- 
agingly. 

“ Where is my other barefoot racer, 
a little lassie who is about this age?” 

There was no response. Meenie’s 
black lashes drooped over eyes that 
swam with tears. She dug her great 
bare toes into the soft earth, and her 
heart was filled with a pain deep be- 
yond words. 


EVERYBODY WINS 


127 


Suddenly from out the crowd came 
a flutter of pink dress and a flash of 
white feet, and Gwen Brailsford stood 
beside her. 

“ I’ve only just got here,” she ex- 
plained, half laughing and all out of 
breath. “ Our boat was so late ! ” 
Then to Mr. Darcy, “ I’m only nine, 
sir ; can I try ? ” 

Gwen and Meenie raced once, they 
raced twice, they raced three times, 
and, wonderful to relate, they touched 
goal at precisely the same moment. 
The sympathy of the spectators was 
divided. Aristocracy favored the pink 
ruffles, and shouted “ Gwen ! ” De- 
mocracy honored the checked gingham, 
shrieking “ Meenie ! ” 

Once, when Gwen’s rosy ankle 


128 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

turned in running, Meenie saw her 
delay, pirouetted twice in the centre 
of the race-course like a huge circus 
dancer, and the instant Gwen had re- 
gained herself was off like a shot. 
They reached the birch trees together 
again. The crowd cheered lustily, and 
Mr. Darcy declared the race was surely 
a “tie,” and they had both won. 

Then came supper, and such a sup- 
per! There was boiled ham stuffed 
with cloves, cold roast chicken, salads, 
sandwiches, cakes, tarts, crumpets, and 
strawberries as big as walnuts. 

Later the prizes were awarded, and 
the minister stood on the hilltop and 
presented them. To the victorious boys 
were given pocket-knives, base-balls, 
cuff-buttons, and scarf-pins. To the 


EVERYBODY WINS 129 

little girls were awarded small cups, 
tiny pitchers, and wee handkerchiefs 
with pansy borders. The ladies won 
picture-frames and pocket mirrors. 
Mr. Darcy had selected the gifts with 
care, and for each victor he had some 
jolly word of congratulation which 
made the award doubly dear. 

“ My prize didn’t cost no money,” 
said Meenie, munching a great slice of 
chocolate cake. “ He hadn’t nothing 
fer the barefooted race, ’cause he didn’t 
’spect to have none, so he jess took 
this here picter out and guv it to me.” 
Very lovingly she drew from her apron 
a small kodak picture, and Dorothea 
recognized the likeness at a glance. 
Some one must have snapped the cam- 
era upon him at a former picnic. The 


130 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

picture had been cleverly taken. There 
was a glimpse of sparkling lake in the 
distance. The young man was sur- 
rounded by his boys and girls, and was 
in his merriest mood. The whole was 
flooded with sunshine. 

“Mrs. Dorthy,” — it was Meenie, 
and she was whispering again, — “Mrs. 
Dorthy. Yer took me to the picnic, 
and I be a-goin’ ter give yer ” — a 
moment’s hesitation — "■half of me 
prize.” 

Dorothea laughed, and patted gener- 
ous Meenie’s rough hand. “ Give me 
the half with the smile in it, will you, 
Meenie?” she said. 


CHAPTBE X 

J = JOY 

P EOFESSOR SNOW was an artist. 
He made a specialty of painting 
the pictures of children. 

The walls of his studio, which was 
on the top floor of an old building, 
were covered with life-size portraits of 
children. There was a cabinet with 
glass doors in one corner of the room. 
Inside the glass were delicate pieces 
of porcelain and ivory; on these he 
had painted baby faces, and he called 
them his “ collection of miniatures.” 

Professor Snow was not a young 
man. He painted slowly and carefully. 


131 


132 THE MAEINa OF MEENIE 

It took him many weeks, and some- 
times months, to paint a single por- 
trait. He was not always successful 
in making the picture look like the 
child. The older he grew the oftener 
he failed. But he was too poor to 
stop painting, and because he was 
the only artist who painted children, 
the fond mothers of Stanfield employed 
him. 

Now it happened upon one occasion 
that Mrs. Sargeant determined to have 
a double likeness of the twins. She 
therefore went to the studio, and it was 
arranged that Professor Snow should 
bring paints and brushes to her house, 
and should put upon canvas the varied 
charms of Joy and Pearl. 

It was no slight task, and the poor 


J= JOY 


133 


man had reason to rue his undertaking 
before it was over. The babies were 
quite alike in point of color and fea- 
tures, but the expression of their faces 
w'as altogether diiferent, and it was 
in catching their expression that Pro- 
fessor Snow failed. 

Joy was never still for an instant, 
and never, looked the same two min- 
utes in succession. Her perpetual mo- 
tion and sudden changes of feeling, 
from laughter to tears, kept the artist 
nervous and irritable. Pearl was easier, 
but Meenie usually held her, and she 
had a trick of closing her angelic eyes 
and turning her face quite away, buried 
in her nurse’s dress. 

Now the old painter’s intention was 
to show the full faces of both babies, 


184 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

side by side. He worked long and 
faithfully. He painted the wee features 
into the canvas and then painted them 
out, and began again. The weeks and 
months went by. He came for a part 
of almost every day, and meanwhile 
Joy continued to dance and Pearl to 
sleep. Professor Snow was in despair. 

At length, one day, he put the finish- 
ing touch to his work. He had failed 
and he knew it, but he had another 
“order.” ' He could not afford to waste 
further time over impossibilities. The 
new “order” was to paint a picture 
of little Ellen Haines, a subject of 
rare promise, for her specialty was 
sitting still. 

Professor Snow collected all his pal- 
ettes and paints and easel and brushes. 


J=JOY 


135 


He and Meenie carried them down two 
flights of stairs and packed them into 
a child’s express wagon. In this way 
he always carried his things from 
house to house. He came up the 
steps again to shake hands and say 
good-hy to the mother of Pearl and 
Joy. As he lifted his hat she noticed 
that his hair had grown white of late, 
and that his face was careworn. She 
handed him a check for the amount 
of money she owed him. It was a 
large sum. He murmured words of 
disappointment because the portraits 
were no better. Then he trundled his 
little express wagon down the street 
in the direction of the Haines house, 
and Mrs. Sargeant went upstairs to 
bemoan his bad work. 


136 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

“I will never show this wretched 
picture to any human being,” declared 
the owner of the twins. But she did. 
That very afternoon when Mrs. Brails- 
ford came to call, she invited her right 
up to the third story to give her candid 
opinion about the picture. 

“ Did you ever see anything so 
dreadful ? My bfeautiful babies ! Why, 
my dear, I have really denied myself 
comforts in order to afford the money 
to have this painted. Meenie and I 
have spent hours trying to entertain 
the babies and keep them still. You 
have no idea how soon Joy began to 
notice when Professor Snow was ex- 
pected. The little rogue hated the 
sight of him, and would be down on 
all fours, and crawl under a bed or 


J=JOT 


187 


into a closet — anywhere to hide from 
him. His arrival was always the signal 
for Pearl to fall asleep. We have in- 
deed been through everything that was 
both disagreeable and expensive. This 
is the result!” 

Honest Mrs. Brailsford tried to be 
comforting. She murmured something 
about the babies’ curls looking “ soft,” 
and the color of the shoulders and 
arms being “ natural.” But her efforts 
were useless, for presently she asked 
a most unfortunate and utterly hope- 
less question. 

“ Let me see. Now, which picture 
is meant for Pearl, and which for 
Joy? This is a little the prettier of 
the two.” 

Mrs. Sargeant gave her visitor a 


138 THE MARINE OF MEENIE 

glance of deep disappointment, politely 
explained who was who, and led the 
way downstairs. 

The fact that the mother of the 
babies and her guest had gone up to 
see the picture had been quite too much 
for Meenie’s curiosity. Her share in its 
painting had been by no means a small 
one. She felt that she must know what 
Mrs. Brailsford thought of the work, 
so she had slipped olf her shoes and 
stolen noiselessly upstairs. A large 
closet, opening into the hall, had a sec- 
ond door adjoining the “ picture room.” 
Into this Meenie had stealthily crept, 
leaving the door ajar. She was in time 
to hear the last part of the criticism ; 
but when Mrs. Brailsford asked, “Which 
is Pearl and which is Joy ? ” and point- 


J=JOY 


139 


ing to Joy's picture, said, “ This is pret- 
tier,” then Meenie’s wrath rose. 

She felt that her favorite baby had 
been insulted. In her picture she could 
not be distinguished from her twin- 
sister. This mistake should never, 
never occur again. She, Meenie, the 
rightful defender of Pearl’s individu- 
ality, would prevent it. Meenie had a 
plan. 

When the ladies descended the stairs, 
Meenie came from her retreat. She 
picked up a large crayon pencil which 
Professor Snow had forgotten and left 
on the window-sill. She marched 
straight up to the portrait, and studied 
both faces long and earnestly. Mrs. 
Brailsford didn’t know which was 
which, did she? Joy’s was “prettier,” 


140 TEE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

was it? Well, Meenie would settle 
these questions once and for all time. 

Then, on the forehead of Joy’s pic- 
ture, she printed wdth her crayon a 
large and very black capital J. Not 
quite satisfied, and resolved there 
should be no further question about 
her darling, she selected the rosy cheek, 
and in its centre she printed a second 
J, larger and blacker than the first. 

Five minutes later Mrs. Sargeant 
heard her singing in the nursery. 


CHAPTEE XI 


“HELP!” 

TT T was somebody’s birthday. I mean 
I it was the birthday of two “some- 
bodies,” for hadn’t Don a person- 
ality quite as strong as Polly’s? Why 
should not both friends celebrate the 
day together, since it was the first of 
September, and she was exactly seven 
and he exactly four years old ? 

Dorothea had planned the festivities, 
after a long talk with the heroine and 
hero of the occasion. To be sure, one 
interpreted Don’s words by his deeds. 
When he rushed madly about the farm- 
yard in a riotous game of tag with 


141 


142 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

breathless hens and peeping chicks, 
when he dashed after young calves 
and sheep, scattering them, teasing 
and laughing at them, who could 
doubt his words ? “ It’s my birth- 
day ! It’s my birthday ! I’m going to 
have a party ! ” 

Polly caught him at last, and tied 
her scarlet sash about his neck — 
twice round, with a festive bow be- 
hind. He seemed to feel the honor 
of such attire, and trotted soberly 
down the garden path with hand- 
some head and tasselled tail erect. 
Such refinement, then, such poise and 
dignity! Could a birthday party fail 
where the host was “ every inch a 
gentleman ” ? 

Dorothea let Polly select the kind 


HELP! 


148 


of party, and all the guests. It must 
be out of doors, of course, because the 
world was so beautiful. There must 
be ten people invited, — one for each 
year, and three for good luck, — I mean 
ten besides Don. 

“ Let me see,” said Dorothea, count- 
ing on her fingers. “ Tour mother, 
and four of you, — that makes five, — 
Aunt May, and I — seven. Who else? ” 

“ Pearl and Joy,” announced Polly 
with decision. 

“ But you’ll have to invite Meenie, 
then, to help take care of them ; do 
you want her ? ” asked Dorothea, ques- 
tioningly. 

“ Course I do. Don wants her, too, 
don’t you, old boy ? ” 

The matter of guests once settled. 


144 THE MAKINOr OF MEENIE 

the subject of entertaining them was 
next in order. 

There was a steam-launch on the 
lake. Polly knew this. She knew 
also that for the sum of five whole 
dollars this launch could be hired for 
the entire afternoon. Dorothea pro- 
duced her purse and showed the 
money. The preparations joyfully 
continued. The owner of this launch 
would take them to the wonderful 
Falls at the end of the lake. They 
could eat supper on the way, and 
would return at sundown, in time for 
drowsy babies to go to bed. Oh, it 
was a perfect plan ! Polly could hardly 
sleep the night before, because of her 
excitement. When she finally did “fall 
off,” her pathetic sobs waked Gwen. 


^'■HELP! 


146 


“What’s the matter, darling?” said 
the elder sister, climbing into the 
younger’ s bed, and folding both arms 
protectingly around her. 

“They’ve gone without we,” she 
said, half asleep. 

“ Why don’t you ask them to wait? ” 
suggested Gwen, vaguely, wondering 
what they were both talking about. 

“I was — afraid — they’d think I 
wanted — to — come — too — ” replied 
Polly’s very dreamy voice. How they 
laughed when Gwen told this conver- 
sation next day ! The sun was shining 
then, and they were all safely on board. 
No fear that Polly would be forgotten. 

Mrs. Sargeant sat at one end of the 
launch, with the beautiful Joy on her 
lap. The little creature was more be- 


146 THE MAKING- OF MEENIE 

witching than ever, crowing, laughing, 
patting her mother’s face with both 
dimpled hands, surprising her with 
kisses, and never still for an instant. 
It was endless variety and occupation 
just to watch her. 

Next Mrs. Sargeant sat Gwen. She 
spent her time in calling everybody’s 
attention to Joy, who indulged in baby 
raptures over her neighbor’s fingers, 
curls, and string of beads. Every mo- 
tion was one of spirit and infantile 
grace. 

Billy sat next to Gwen, on the other 
side. He had provided himself with 
pencil and paper, and from time to 
time he made rapid sketches of the 
party. Opposite him was his mother, 
with Polly very close. Then came 


^'■HELP! 


147 


Dorothea — a veritable little queen, 
clad in a pale blue yachting suit, 
open at the throat. Billy declared 
she was too pretty to sketch; Larry’s 
profile was easier, and so he attacked 
that vigorously. 

The engine and the man who worked 
it and steered the launch were in the 
centre of the boat. 

At the other end, opposite Mrs. Sar- 
geant, sat Meenie. In her arms, very 
tenderly and safely, she embraced the 
lovely form of Pearl. The fair head 
nestled against her dark apron. The 
blue eyes were wide open, yet the little 
one scarcely stirred. Perhaps she did 
not feel quite strong — an unspoken 
baby grief. She made no sound, but 
there was a tear upon her soft cheek. 


148 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

Close at Meenie’s feet, with black 
head alert and silken ears moving at 
every sound from the engine, sat Don. 

Puff, puff! The launch cut its way 
through the silver lake. On either side 
rose the banks, so charmingly varied in 
form and color, a panorama of ever 
changing scene. An island here, dark 
green and full of mystery, and again, 
quaint houses, white sail-boats, or a 
grove of noble trees. Gulls swooped 
down from somewhere in the blue sky 
and dipped their gray wings in the 
cool water. Once a loon rose above 
the calm lake, sent its mournful shriek 
across the water, and dived again be- 
neath its surface. The loon would have 
proved too great a temptation for Don 
had not Billy and Lawrence seized him 


HELP! 


149 


with all their strength and fairly pin- 
ioned him in the boat. 

Such laughing and talking and eat- 
ing as there was! Polly helped pass 
the good things, and everybody drank 
her health in a glass of lemonade. 
Then straightway they proceeded to 
eat, to their own destruction, biscuits, 
cold meat, tarts, turnovers, and birth- 
day cake. Don begged very prettily 
indeed, and was rewarded by bits of 
frosting and kisses. 

They sang, and Meenie’s clear so- 
prano and Billy’s deeper notes took 
the lead. There was strong work from 
Mrs. Brailsford and Dorothea on the 
choruses, and the others chirped along 
somehow. 

It grew cooler, and the twins were 


150 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

incased in pink flannel jackets that 
fastened with a single button at the 
throat. Oh, how cunning they looked ! 
The tiny sleeves were so loose that Joy 
appeared fatter than before. Health 
and excitement seemed fairly to intoxi- 
cate her. She danced up and down on 
her mother’s lap, until that lady’s arms 
ached trying to hold her. At length 
she balanced herself in a new way and 
fairly stood upright upon the seat. This 
accomplishment delighted Joy. She 
shouted with glee. Then she rocked 
back and forth, indeed so tipsily that 
Mrs. Sargeant caught the back of the 
pink coat and tried to steady her. 

“ Do let me take that jumping-jack 
for a while, my dear,” suggested Mrs. 
Brailsford. She stretched out both 


HELP! 


151 


arms, but as she spoke Joy gave a 
mighty spring. Her mother clutched 
frantically at the jacket, but the one 
button at the throat gave way and the 
dark waters of the lake closed above 
Joy’s bright head. 

“ Help ! ” gasped the stricken mother, 
waving an empty pink sacque by one 
sleeve. “ For Heaven’s sake, help ! 
My child ! My child ! ” 

“ Stop the boat ! ” commanded Law- 
rence. Gwen began to say the Lord’s 
Prayer out loud and very fast indeed, 
but it was Meenie's brain which thought 
best, and her voice which shouted ; — 
“ Get her, Don ! There ! There ! ” 
She pointed as she spoke to the widen- 
ing circles of water, where Joy had 
gone down. 


152 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 
Get her, Don ! 

Splash! The splendid creature was 
overboard, and as quick as lightning. 
A second he disappeared, and an in- 
stant later he swam faithfully to the 
boat^s side holding the baby^s dress 
firmly in his teeth and carrying her 
— oh, wise Don I — face upward, her 
head above the water. Every hand in 
the boat reached out to take her in. 
Thank God it was not too late 1 

Joy was very, very pale, but she 
hreathed. One might rather say she 
gasped, so wheezy, short, and painful 
were the little breaths she drew. But 
any sound was welcome to the group 
who knelt about her. Somebody^ s 
warm shawl rubbed her until the round 
limbs glowed warm and pink. She 


HELP! 


163 


was patted on the back, and wrapped 
up in Lawrence’s jacket, and on top 
of that Billy’s jacket, and finally the 
engineer’s coat on top of all the others. 

Dorothea boiled hot water, in some 
wonderful way, and coaxed spoonfuls 
between her lips, until poor Joy, worn 
out by so much attention, begged for 
mercy by setting up one mighty shriek. 
How relieved they all felt. The louder 
she cried, the higher rose the spirits 
of all the party. Here was a positive 
proof that Joy’s lungs had not been 
injured by her wetting. Presently her 
grief aroused a sympathizing echo from 
her twin sister (the woes of twins 
are ever contagious), and gentle Pearl 
awoke to her own obligations in the 
weeping line. They fairly howled. 


154 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

By the time the launch touched the 
wharf both babies were wailing so 
lustily that an everyday passer-by 
would not have dreamed that anything 
unusual had happened. 

“ No Christian ever spent a nobler 
birthday than Don has spent to-day,” 
said Lawrence, reverently. 

“ Meenie is a heathen, I suppose, 
and it wasn’t her birthday either,” re- 
plied Billy, looking comical ; “ but she 
did pretty well, considering she is only 
a — human.” 


CHAPTER XII 


IN THE PASTURE 


A 


RE you asleep, Meenie ? ” 

The girl was lying face 


downward on the grass. It 
was early evening, and the dews had 
already fallen. 

“ Wake up, little girl. Don and I 
have been hunting you everywhere.” 
As Dorothea spoke, she stooped down 
and touched the child’s shoulder, while 
the great dog discovered her face hid- 
den beneath its mat of hair, and having 
found it, licked it lovingly. 

“Come, Meenie; come, dear.” 

At the word “ dear ” the child sat 


166 


166 THE MAKING- OF MEENIE 

upright, and then Dorothea saw that 
she had not been asleep, but that her 
face was stained with tears. 

In an instant Dorothy’s white gown 
was forgotten, and she was close beside 
the wretched child, holding the rough 
hands in both her own, and saying 
sweet and soothing words such as a 
mother might have used to her fright- 
ened or hurt little girl. 

“Mrs. Dorthy,” after a long silence, 
and between heavy sobs. 

“Mrs. Dorthy ^ — ^no one is as ugly 
as me. There ain’t no one but what 
hates me. Miss Jonas, why one day the 
Knapp boys hearn her, she told Miss 
Bailsford ’bout me, — what ugly hair 
I had, and what an ugly shape I was, 
what nothin’ would fit, and Biddy, she 


m THE PASTURE 


157 


told Mike nobody never had such hands 
and feet as mine — such ugly ones, and 
that no one was hatefuler than me — in 
all God’s world — no one uglier than 
me — ” Her last words ended in a wail. 

Dorothy stroked her hand affection- 
ately. 

“ Listen, Meenie. It isn’t fair for 
■ people to say such things. Your eyes 
aren’t ugly. When they look straight 
at me, and I know you are telling the 
pure truth, they are fine eyes, and I 
love to look at them. You’ve got 
a nice mouth, too, when you smile, 
and you always do smile, you know, 
at Pearl. Oh, I’ve watched you ! 
Your hair will look better next year, 
because it will be longer then and you 
can braid it. Brush it, dear, and make 


158 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

it look well; taken care of, the hair 
itself is all right. Don’t worry about 
your hands and feet. They are large 
because you are going to be a great, 
strong, splendid woman. It’s a queer 
thing, Meenie, but almost always true, 
that wonderful singers are large women. 
I want you to use your voice somehow. 
I only wish I knew the very best Avay to 
manage for you. But I will manage.” 

A gleam of joy shot across Meenie’s 
disfigured face. Her young physician 
had chosen wisely — the healing balm 
of stirring self-respect. But presently 
her face clouded again and she said 
fiercely : — 

“ Mrs. Dorthy, I want yer to tell 
me sumpthin’. If Don, now, hadn’t 
pulled Joy out of the lake, and if she 


IN THE PASTURE 


159 


was drownded and dead, would she go 
to heaven where the’re angels and all 
those dreadful things ? I knowd a 
lady once and a baby, and I seen the 
baby and it was dead, and its mother, 
she told me, ‘ My baby’s gone to heaven,’ 
and says I to her, ‘ Ain’t that there your 
baby in the crib all covered with them 
flowers ? ’ And says she to me, ‘ Yes, 
my baby’s in the crib, too.’ There she 
was in the crib jess the same only she 
was orful still and didn’t cry no more. 
The mother she lied, didn’t she now, 
Mrs. Dorthy? She didn’t have only 
one baby, and that one wasn’t ’way off 
in heaven and in the crib, too, was it 
now ? ” 

Dorothea threw one arm across 
Meenie’s shoulder as they sat together 


160 THE MAKINQ OF MEENIE 

in the darkness. Don laid his forest 
of dark curls in her white lap and 
looked up into her face with large, sad 
eyes to say : — 

“ Come, now, little mistress, for you 
must know everything, explain to us, 
who are so dull, this mystery of life 
and death.” 

“ Meenie, do you love me ? ” asked 
Dorothy, suddenly. 

The child’s reply was to grip her 
hand in an iron clasp. 

“ Do you love me with your eyes and 
lips and body and hands and feet?” 
continued the girl. 

“In me stummik,” responded the 
child in a whisper. 

Dorothea was too much in earnest 
even to have smiled. She went on 
simply : — 


IN THE PASTURE 


161 


“ Yes, you love me with a feeling that 
is within you. Mr. Darcy would call 
that feeling your ‘ Spirit.’ It’s the 
most precious part of you and me — 
this Spirit. It’s all pure, and holy, 
and God loves it so well that He has 
faithfully promised never to let it die. 

“ It was the Spirit of the baby — 
the part that loved — that God took 
home to heaven, and its little hands 
and feet and precious body were put 
to sleep in the garden among the other 
flowers. Do you understand ? Meenie, 
I often think about heaven and how 
unspeakably happy it must be there, — 
no rich and no poor, no sickness, no 
enemies of any sort, — friends, every 
one, and all loving spirits.” 

“But God, ain’t He always there?” 


162 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

questioned Meenie, doubtfully. “Mrs. 
Sargeant, why she told me ’bout God. 
I don’t like Him — always follerin’ me 
round and listenin’ to me when I tells 
lies, and spyin’ of me when I hook 
doughnuts. But it don’t make no dif- 
funce to Him how I do or how I don’t 
like Him, there He is and there He’ll 
stay, fer all me. It don’t make no dif- 
funce.” Her voice broke with blank 
and utter discouragement. 

Don rose majestically and trotted 
across the lawn. He had matters to 
meditate upon, so solemn, indeed, that 
he needed to be quite alone — deep 
problems, spiritual dog cravings. 

The night darkened and the brilliant 
stars came out, one by one. 

“ I wish I were wise enough or good 


m THE PASTURE 


163 


enough to help you, I long to, Meenie. 
I am so stupid about trying to explain 
these things. I suppose it is getting 
late for us to be out here. How perfect 
it is out of doors to-night! I won- 
der ” — very hesitatingly. 

Two mosquitoes lighted on Meenie’s 
cheeks. She slew them with one blow 
of her large hand, then said, gently, 
“What do you wonder, Mrs. Dorthy?” 

There was another long silence. 
Then in the night a slender white 
figure rose and knelt on the soft grass. 
Presently a dark one crouched beside 
her. 

“Heavenly Father,” said Dorothea, 
very reverently, “ we pray Thee to 
come close to our spirits and teach 
them how to love. Thou art Meenie’s 


164 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

Father and my Father, and dost love 
us best when we are lonely and 
broken-hearted, and can’t understand 
things. Teach us to live honestly and 
purely and kindly and to help each 
other always. Take care of our spirits 
out in the darkness wherever they go. 
Protect us, and oh, our Father, love us 
forever.” 

The golden head of the older “ sis- 
ter” bent for a moment above the 
rough locks of the younger. Then 
Dorothea turned Meenie’s face up to 
her own and very tenderly kissed her 
twice upon the lips. This was the 
first kiss the child had ever received. 
It seemed to her that an angel had 
touched her, promising one day to 
make her good. 


CHAPTER XIII 


GOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 

T here was a stir in the Sar- 
geant house next Friday morn- 
ing. The telegraph boy had 
come and gone, and had left a tele- 
gram for Miss Dorothy Cameron. It 
was from her father, and told her to 
start for Canada the next Monday. 
Not that he was ill, nor that his 
daughter needed to be anxious on any 
account. He was simply lonely, quite 
too forlorn to do without her any 
longer. Her three months’ visit in 
the States had been already too long, 
as far as he was concerned. 


165 


166 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

The great house needed her step on 
the stair, and her father, poor man, 
had found books a sorry substitute for 
her charming smiles and caresses. 
His frequent letters had hinted at and 
invited her speedy coming home, but 
when the happy girl had taken no 
hints, but had continued to stay, Mr. 
Cameron grew quite desperate and 
telegraphed her to come. 

“Poor Papa,” laughed Dorothy, 
“he’ll fairly eat me up loving me 
when I get back. Of course I want 
to see him. He needs cheering up. 
Pm afraid Pve been real selfish to 
stay so long. But oh. Auntie dear, 
how lonely that great house is with- 
out mother ! Still, my place is there, 
with him, and Pll pack my trunks 


GOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 167 

right away and be thankful for this 
glorious and perfect visit. How often 
I’ll think of you, and those darling 
babies, and my room, and the rose 
balcony, and of all our happy, happy 
times ! ” 

“ You’ll be back next summer, prom- 
ise me, Dorothea?” 

“ Indeed, I shall, and father shall 
leave all his books and come too. 

“ What about our other plan. Auntie ? 
Have you made up your mind yet?” 

There was a whispered conversation. 
Mrs. Sargeant was anxious and unde- 
cided ; Dorothy was eager and certain. 

At length the older woman said 
aloud : — 

“ Perhaps you are right, dear, but 
since we still have a day in which to 


168 THE MAKINOt OF MEENIE 

make our plans, we’ll say nothing about 
the matter to any one else. I can count 
on your silence ? ” 

Dorothea’s eyes gave the promise — 
she did not need to speak. One gazed 
into her eyes and saw there a soul. 
*####* 

There was a stir in the Brailsford 
house — a stir and more than a stir. 
I am afraid you would have called it 
temper, tears, and open rebellion. 

Mrs. Brailsford broke the sad news 
— a telegram had come bidding Doro- 
thea return to Canada on Monday. 

They were all at the lunch table. 
Betty was passing a dish of delicious 
tarts to Billy, and his mother felt that 
this was a good opportunity to give him 
the sorrowful message. 


QOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 169 

But even tarts failed to comfort Billy 
and his equally miserable mates. 

“ I call that a perfect shame.” 

“ Up and down mean." 

“ On Monday ? This nexi Monday ? ” 

“ Why, we haven’t had our other 
picnic yet.” 

“No, nor the cake walk, either.” 

“ Pity ’bout her father. He must be 
a regular baby, can’t get on without 
her, and had to telegraph.” 

“ The cake walk was to be the very 
best thing of the whole summer — 
even better than Polly’s birthday party. 
Why, I was going to have three dif- 
ferent costumes and walk fancy and 
different in every one.” 

“ You know I borrowed the jockey 
suit ’specially for that cake walk.” 


170 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

“ I didn’t have anything hut the 
Indian dress ; but you remember, Billy, 
wasn’t I all right as Queen ? Only I’d 
planned to have more war-paint this 
time, for the cake walk, and to take 
dance steps.” 

“ It’ll be worse for Polly than for 
any one else, for she was to be the 
Fairy, and pretend Don was a charmed 
Prince. Of course, if Dolly goes, Don 
will go. Isn’t it too bad? Why, we 
practised all one afternoon teaching 
Polly to walk fancy, and Don was so 
tame, and smiled — really, he did now, 
mother, you needn’t laugh or believe it 
if you don’t want to, but we thought he 
smiled.” 

“ You needn’t think any of us would 
take the prize, even if Dorothea could 


aOOB-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 171 

stay. There is only om who could win 
that cake.” 

“ Who ? ” 

“ Meenie Snider.” 

“ Why? ” asked everybody. 

“ She’s taken plenty of ’em. She 
told me so. Why, before she came to 
the Sargeants to live, she used to cake 
walk almost every night down at a 
big hall. Sometimes she’d walk funny, 
and sometimes pretty. Sometimes she’d 
walk with a parasol, or a fan, and she’d 
drop her handkerchief, and smile, and 
dance, and spring, and jump into the 
air, and cut ‘ pigeonwings ’ in the air. 
Why, she’s double-jointed — she is. 
She can beat every one in the world 
at a cake walk.” 

“ Have you all decided what you 


172 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

will tuck into Dorothea’s trunk to 
surprise her when she reaches home ? ” 
interrupted Mrs. Brailsford, cheerfully. 
She had not quite approved of the 
cake walk, and in her heart was will- 
ing to give it up, although she was 
sorry enough to have Dorothea go. 

The suggestion of a gift for their 
precious friend proved a happy one. 
Gwen dried her tears at once, Billy 
helped himself to his third tart, and 
Larry said : — 

“ I’ll give her my new hook on But- 
terflies. She said she didn’t know 
much about them, and wished she did.” 

“ Do you suppose she’d like the little 
hat I trimmed for Beulah Maude ? ” 
asked Gwen. “You know, Polly, the 
one with the pink rosebuds and white 
ribbon ? ” 


aOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 178 

Polly nodded. Gwen grew enthusi- 
astic. 

“Mother, Dorothy said once she’d 
like a big hat, I mean for herself, just 
like the little one. I should think 
probably if she had the doll’s hat, she 
could copy a big one. Wouldn’t she 
look beautiful in a hat with rosebuds ? ” 

“ Dorothy could have my kitten, only 
how’d I pack it?” asked Polly, think- 
ing of her dearest treasure and look- 
ing worried because cats cannot be 
packed in trunks with books and rose- 
bud hats. 

“ Put it in the same car with Don 
and your kitten’ll be well taken care 
of,” said saucy Billy. He did not tell 
what he would give to sweet Dorothy 
as a keepsake, but privately deter- 


174 THE MAKINa OF MEEHIE 

mined on a plan. He would fill every 
nook and cranny of her trunk with a 
real reminder of himself, since he was 
seldom without them — peanuts. 

Although the members of the Sar- 
geant and Brailsford households were 
much distressed at the thought of 
Miss Dorothy’s departure, there was 
one heart which ached harder than 
any of these, and refused to be com- 
forted. This heart was under a blue- 
checked apron. 

Meenie did not know that it was 
her heart that ached. If you had 
asked her why her dark eyes looked 
soft and kept filling with strange tears, 
she would have told you : — 

“ Mrs. Dorthy had a telegraph.” 

The part of Meenie which hved had 


aOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 176 

been growing very fast the last three 
months. In loving Dorothea her little 
world had become suddenly big. 

One day while she was caring for 
the babies, — rocking them, singing to 
them, watching lest some slightest 
harm should befall them, — Dorothea 
had come close to her. 

“ Meenie,” she had said, “ you have 
one great talent ; I mean the way you 
take care of these twins. It really is 
a great talent. No one else can begin 
to manage them as well as you do.” 

Dorothea had said this several weeks 
ago. How happy the words had made 
the young nurse then ! Meenie had 
found pencil and paper, and had tried 
with poor spelling to write them down. 

A great wave of sorrow for all her 


176 THE MAKINa OP MEENIE 

past naughtiness swept over her young 
soul. 

She longed to run and ask kind Mrs. 
Sargeant to forgive her for lies told 
ever so long ago, for cookies stolen, for 
listening at keyholes, and peeping into 
closets and trunks. In her own eyes 
she became suddenly hateful. She 
wanted to beg Billy Brailsford’s par- 
don for striking him once. She wished 
she had never tried to steal that pink 
ribbon from Miss Dorothy, — oh, how 
she wished she had never tried to do 
that thing! She was even sorry that 
she had burned Biddy’s false hair and 
scared her with the rat. 

Then all at once she began to feel 
glad about things. She thought of the 
day she had raced with Gwen at the 


GOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 111 

picnic, and was happy to think that 
when Gwen tripped she had waited 
for her to catch up. She was glad to 
recall that she gave Mr. Darcy’s picture 

— the whole of it, instead of only half 

— to Miss Dorothy. “Mrs. Dorthy had 
liked that picture.” Oh, how thankful 
she was that Don had saved Joy’s life, 
and that Pearl was quite well at last 
and nearly as fat and strong as Joy! 

So the little maid kept thinking of 
all the things which made her happy, 
and her face brightened, and she said 
aloud : — 

“I folks.” 

Joy heard her, clapped her hands, 
and chuckled. 

But, as I said, all this had happened 
several weeks ago, and here it was 


178 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

Sunday afternoon, and on the follow- 
ing day the one who had helped her 
to be good and taught her how to 
love would be far away, and she, poor 
Meenie Snider, would be left all alone 
— alone with “one talent.” She would 
try to be faithful to it. “ Mrs. Dorthy ” 
should come back and should find her 
“ an honest little lady.” They had 
often talked about it, — “ An honest 
little lady with a talent.” How nice 
it sounded ! And yet poor, brave 
Meenie’s eyes filled with tears, and 
she put her head on the baby’s pillow 
and shut them tight. 

“ Meenie, I want to ask you a 
question.” 

There stood Dorothy, smiling down 
at her and looking very merry. 


GOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 179 

“ Would you feel very sorry if Auntie 
— just for a year — should get a new 
nurse for the twins ? — just for a year 
or two, that’s all? Some one ever so 
much older than you, who could teach 
them a little, and who could sew and 
help Auntie about the house, too ? Of 
course, no one could be more watchful 
over them than you are ; but an older 
person could help Auntie more, and 
you know she isn’t very strong.” 

Meenie shut her eyes tight to keep 
back the tears. She had opened them 
when Dorothy first began to speak. 
She hugged Pearl’s little pillow close. 
Was it true? How could Miss Doro- 
thy be so cruel? Would she feel 
“sorry” to have some one else take 
care of her darlings? Was it really 


180 THE M AKIN a OF MEENIE 

Miss Dorothy standing there, saying 
such dreadful things and smiling f 
She would shut her eyes and not see 
that smile. She understood it all, 
now, Mrs. Sargeant would “ put a tag 
on her ” and “ express her elsewhere.” 
Meenie had once overheard her say 
something like that. 

But still Dorothy stood there, and 
still she smiled. 

“ Meenie, I asked Auntie to get a 
new nurse for the babies — because — 
I’m very lonely in my big house at 
home, and I need just such a little 
maid as you to help me there. 

“ If you could choose between stay- 
ing here with the babies this winter, 
or going home to help me, which 
should you choose?” 


aOOJD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 181 

Meenie made no reply, but up she 
sprang with Pearl’s pillow and pro- 
ceeded to “ cake walk ” until Dor- 
othy’s laughter brought the whole 
household to the spot. 

Mrs. Sargeant and the Brailsfords 
had been in the secret, and were 
waiting to see the effect of the news. 
They came in at once, and how every- 
body laughed. Biddy heard peals of 
laughter from the nursery, called Mike, 
and soon their merry faces were at 
the door. 

Meenie danced, and sprang, and cut 
“ pigeonwings,” and did fancy steps 
enough to prove beyond a doubt that 
this was a “cake walk,” and she was 
the winner. 

“ I suppose the ‘ cake ’ is Dorothy 


182 THE MAKING OF MEENIE 

herself,” said Gwen, “and Meenie has 
won it.” 

“ I bet Mr. Darcy wishes he knew 
how to cake walk if Dolly is the 
prize,” said naughty Billy. 

“ Hush, my son ! ” said his mother. 

Then Dorothy went over by the win- 
dow and stood on a footstool, which 
made her seem wonderfully tall. She 
looked from one dear face to another 
and finally said : — 

“ To-morrow I am going away, and 
I am going to take Meenie with me. 
We shall not forget any of you. She’ll 
go to school part of every day, and 
she’ll take piano and singing lessons. 
She and I will wait on father and 
keep him from feeling too lonely. 

“ I am going to lend you something 


aOOB-BY TILL NEXT SUM M ER 183 


— lend it for a whole year — you 
frolicsome four — I mean my beloved 
Don!" 

Then there was more clapping and 
shouting, and Dorothy was hugged and 
kissed until she fled from the room 
with all the children after her. 

The mothers went to Mrs. Sargeant’s 
room to talk over all the new plans. 
Mike and Biddy returned to their work, 
and Meenie was left alone. 

The babies were both in high spirits, 
and it took her longer than usual to quiet 
them down and get them ready for sleep. 

When this was accomplished she 
stepped softly about the room gather- 
ing up her small belongings. How 
excited she felt all the rest of the 
afternoon and evening! 


184 THI] MAKING ON MEENIE 

She could not sleep when first her 
head touched the pillow, but tossed to 
and fro, and when she finally dropped 
off, her dreams were broken and 
troubled. 

Meenie rose at daylight. Their 
train was an early one, but not too 
early for the young Brailsfords, who 
were up to see the start. It had been 
thought wise to lock Don in the barn, 
since he was to be left behind ; so 
Dorothy had bidden him farewell the 
night before, promising her trusty 
friend to come back for him next 
summer. 

Mr. Cameron had asked a gentleman, 
who he knew was to make the trip, to 
take charge of his daughter and her lit- 
tle maid. When this escort drove up to 


aOOD-BY TILL NEXT SUMMER 185 


take the girls to the train, Meenie was 
not at first to be found. 

After repeated calls Dorothy thought 
of the nursery, and hurried there. 

On her knees beside the bed of sleep- 
ing and unconscious Pearl, crouched 
the young nurse. She was singing 
very softly, and Dorothea knew that 
her song was meant to be a parting 
blessing to the little one. 

“ Angels ever bright and fair, 

Keep^ O keep her in thy care.” 

She saw Dorothea had come for her, 
stooped and kissed Pearl reverently, — 
behind the ear, as always, — and they 
slipped quietly from the room. 

Meenie’s farewell to Mrs. Sargeant 
was an amusing contrast to this tender 


186 THE MAKINa OF MEENIE 

leave-taking. She shook a warning 
finger at her as the carriage moved 
away. 

Miss Sargeant, mind yon don’t let 
nothing happen to my babies while I’m 
gone, mind now — ’specially Pearl! ” 


THE FROLICSOME FOUR 

By EDITH L. and ARIADNE GILBERT 


Illustrated by JOSEPHINE BRUCE Large 12mo Price $1.00 


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Editor Children’s Page “ Youth’s Companion ” 


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with a happy style of teaching moral lessons.” — Chicago Journal. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers. 



Lr££ hk SIi£PARD, P\jiblisl:iers, Boston 


LITTLE BETTY BLEW 

Her Strange Experiences and Adventures 
in Indian Land 

BY ANNIE M. BARNES 

Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill i2mo Cloth with gold and 
colors 300 pages Price $1.25 

O NE of the very best books with 
which to satisfy a young reader’s 
natural desire for an “ Indian story ” 
is this one of little Betty Blew and 
what she saw and experienced when 
her family removed from Dorchester, 
Mass., two hundred years ago, to 
their home on the Ashley River above 
Charleston, South Carolina. Although 
Betty is but a small maid she is so 
wise and true that she charms all, and 
there are a number of characters who 
will interest boys as well as girls, and 
old as well as young. 

There are many Indians who figure most importantly* in many 
exciting scenes, but the book, though a splendid “ Indian story,” 
is far more than that. It is an unusually entertaining tale of the 
making of a portion of our country, with plenty of information 
as well as incident to commend it, and the account of a delight- 
ful family life in the brave old times. It is good to notice that 
this story is to be the first of a colonial series, which will surely 
I be a favorite with children and their parents. Mr. Merrill’s 
; illustrations are of unusual excellence, even for that gifted artist, 
and the binding is rich and beautiful. 

I 

For sale by all booksellers^ or sent prepaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers 

LEE AND SHEPARD BOSTON 




V^/inifred’s Neighbors 

By NINA RHOADES 

Author of “ Only DolHe ” and “ The Little 
Girl Next Door ” Illustrated by Bertha 
G. Davidson Large i2mo Cloth 
^i.oo 

Little Girl Next Door ” has been 
X more persistently re-ordered than al- 
most any other children’s book of last sea- 
son, and Miss Rhoades’s new story deserves 
equal popularity. Little Winifred’s efforts 
to find some children of whom she reads in 
a book lead to the acquaintance of a neigh- 
bor of the same name, and this acquaintance 
proves of the greatest importance to Wini- 
fred’s own family. Through it all she is 
just such a little girl as other girls ought to 
know, and the story will hold the interest 
of all ages. 

The Little Girl Next Door 

By NINA RHOADES 

Author of “Only Dollie ” Illustrated 
by Bertha G. Davidson Large i 2 mo 
Cloth $1.00 

A DELIGHTFUL story of true and gen- 
uine friendship between an impulsive 
little girl in a fine New York home and a 
little blind girl in an apartment next door. 
The little girl’s determination to cultivate 
the acquaintance, begun out of the window 
during a rainy day, triumphs over the bar- 
riers of caste, and the little blind girl proves 
to be in every way a worthy companion. 
Later a mystery of birth is cleared up, and 
the little blind girl proves to be of gentle 
birth as v/ell as of gentle manners. 


Only Dollie 

By NINA RHOADES 

Square i2mo Cloth Illustrated by Bertha Davidson $i.oo 

T his is a brightly written story of a girl of twelve, who when the 
mystery of her birth is solved, like Cinderella, passes from drudgery 
to better circumstances. There is nothing strained or unnatural at any 
point. All descriptions or portrayals of character are life-like, and the 
book has an indescribable appealing quality which wins sympathy and 
secures success. 




LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERl 

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